The High House

by James Stoddard

  The bare steps, the unpainted walls, the space far above, the lantern light dancing, the fear of facing that which waited above, all sank into Carter’s soul, as if he walked once more in nightmare. He dared not consider the possibility of failure, lest it send him fleeing back down the stair. He kept his eyes focused at the edge of the light, fearing they might reach the top unexpectedly; as it was, it surprised him when they attained it so soon, the distance having shrunk as it does when the unknown becomes familiar. He ordered Hope to wait a few steps farther down while he ascended the remainder of the way. Bereft of the company of his friend, he felt the fear clamp over his heart.

  He stepped forward slowly, raised his light to illuminate the ceiling joists, and gave what he intended to be a loud hallo, though his voice sounded thin and small in the expanse. Only dust, old toys, and silence greeted him.

  He walked a dozen feet farther into the attic, called again, and heard a heavy exhalation behind him. He whirled and found two red eyes staring down at him from a great height. An involuntary cry escaped his lips, but he stood his ground. “Jormungand.”

  The voice of the dinosaur rumbled above him. “The little steward has returned.”

  Carter heard the hissing of the monster’s breath, the soft slapping of the heavy tail across the floorboards. The dinosaur stood like a stone gargoyle, all gray, his eyes lidding and unlidding rapidly, like the tongue of a frog taking prey. This close, the pungent smell of reptile was nearly overwhelming.

  “I have come to ask your help,” Carter said.

  “You have gained four Words of Power,” Jormungand said grudgingly. “I see them in you, floating like flies in soup. But not all seven. Perhaps I can eat you. Or at least chew on you a bit. The fare has been slight of late.”

  The dinosaur moved closer, bending his slavering jaws down, his hot breath blowing on Carter’s face. He stood perfectly still, afraid to run, afraid to stay, his whole body trembling before those eyes, large as melons. “I am the Steward!” he cried, angry in his desperation. “I command the Words. Do you require further proof?”

  For a long moment the dinosaur stared at him. Carter saw ages of wisdom and power, discernment beyond measure, and indifference toward men. Jormungand was like living rock, oiled with reptile sweat, teeth sharp as spears.

  Slowly, condescendingly, the monster withdrew. “You are the Steward. Have you come for entertainment? Do you hope to place a hook in leviathan’s mouth; hoist me up by my tail so we can take a photograph together, me dead and you smiling? Later, dinosaur for dinner, leftovers for six weeks, and a Jormungand rug your children can run back and forth across on bare feet, to get the feel of real Jurassic leather? What do you want?”

  Sweat beaded on Carter’s forehead. “I possess the Word of Secret Ways, and I need to use it to lead Enoch to the Towers. But where should I speak it?”

  “You disturbed me for this? You should ask the skinny butler, Rattle, who used to accompany the Masters.”

  “Brittle. He’s dead.”

  “Ah. Already? I should have known. But it’s difficult to keep track. Men are like buzzing gnats, swarming on a summer day, burned by the sun before noon, mating and dying in the air, buried in the grass by sunset, their offspring rising with the morning light. The dust in this attic is older than you, and less ephemeral. But Jormungand has been since the beginning. As for your question: speak the Word of Power at the door leading to the stair of the Towers, and the hidden way will appear. But you should also use it at the bottom of this stair, to find passages that will bring you knowledge.”

  “I also need to find my father’s Lightning Sword, his Tawny Mantle, all the old things which he once used, including the Master Keys which the anarchists possess.”

  The dinosaur turned from side to side in contemplation. “And do I look like a crystal ball, mechanized fortune-teller bought for a pence, Ouija board tyrannosaurus, circus gypsy stored with the trunks, unwrapped like an old suit on All Hallow’s Eve, moth-eaten, ill-fitting, a comical diversion for the children? You tread a thin line. Is this the best you can ask?”

  Carter felt his whole body trembling. “I believe so.”

  “Very well,” Jormungand hissed. “A harder puzzle, at least. If I were to seek the old lord, I would go to Arkalen beside the Rainbow Sea. You might find his things there.”

  “Do you know if he still lives?”

  Jormungand shook his great head. “Nothing is certain, but being who he was and what he wanted, that is where I would look. He sought death, though he did not call it such. He yearned for someone from the Other Side, even as he looked for the Master Keys. Go to Arkalen. There you will also begin your search for the keys. Do you have a fourth question?”

  “No.”

  “Too bad. If you had asked another I would have been entitled to devour you. There is a balance, and a tally kept; no one ever asks more than three things at once of the Great Worm. You have passed a test, little steward, and you did not even know. Because of it, I give you a present. But first, tell me what you fear.”

  Carter stood silent, but beneath those great eyes he found he could not dissemble, and the answer came unbidden from his lips. “Darkness and deep water. Closed places. I nearly drowned in a well as a child.”

  “Yes. I see it within you. Then to find the Master Keys you must go through those things. Perhaps even to the Room of Horrors.”

  Carter flinched. “No,” he said softly. “I will never go there again. This is a miserly present. You give me little comfort.”

  “Comfort, you say? I should have bought you a banjo. One does not keep a dinosaur in the attic for comfort. Or merely to frighten away the birds. Did you come for packages wrapped in pink bows, so we could open them together, slap each other on the back, and squeal like girls? Where have I put my candy dishes? All out of bonbons. But there is always a price to speak to me, and the present and price are the same. Someday I will be released from this attic, for I am prepared for a time and a place, and a battle beyond measure. Perhaps a battle for the end of the worlds. I have seen much, but I am never pleasant to converse with. Go now, so I do not have to paw after the man who came with you, whose flesh smells a little like that of a lamb.”

  “Thank you, Jormungand.”

  “Oh, no. Thank you. I was waiting, bated breath, for your call.”

  The behemoth sat back on his haunches, and curled up with his long tail about him, as if preparing for sleep. The red eyes closed, leaving darkness where they had been.

  Hope and Carter walked back down the stair, silent until they reached the little room at the bottom, when the lawyer said, “Do you intend to do as he said? He gave me gooseflesh all over. Can he be trusted?”

  “We will find out beginning now. I will use the Word of Secret Ways here, in this room, as he instructed. You might want to go downstairs, for your own safety.”

  “I’d rather stay and see the show.”

  “Very well. It will take a moment.”

  Carter concentrated, recalling the Word, bringing it before his mind until he could see the flames dancing like sprites across the letters, each character standing bright upon blackness. He held it there, studying its majesty, absorbing its full meaning, the ponderous weight of its being. Its existence belied the words of Jormungand, suggesting that because the Word was, that men were more than dust, that there was Purpose, and perhaps, even, Justice. Carter could have remained there forever, mesmerized by that single Word, as a man in a hashish trance ceaselessly studies the lines of his hand, but the nature of the Word was either to action or quiescence; it could not be held long. Sensing he must use it or see it wither, he slowly opened his mouth, dragging the Word from his throat, sending it clawing into the world.

  “Talheedin!” Released at last, it roared into the small chamber. The room shook; Hope went pale. Carter found himself trembling. He looked around expectantly.

  At first nothing occurred. Then, a dim rectangle of blue luminescence slowly appeared upon the east wall
. He approached it warily, dropped to his haunches, and ran his fingers over its surface, but except for the unnatural glow, it remained unchanged.

  “What do you make of it?” he asked.

  “I … don’t see anything,” Hope replied.

  Carter looked up, thinking he was joking, but the lawyer remained impassive. Carter described it.

  “I can’t detect a trace,” Hope said. “But surely it’s the Word at work; there must be a hidden door. We simply have to find the mechanism.”

  They began a thorough search and soon discovered a tiny button upon the top of the baseboard. At Carter’s touch, the center of the blue area rotated sideways on a metal rod, revealing a lightless passage wide enough for a single man.

  Carter went first, slumping to avoid brushing the low ceiling. The smell of mold pervaded the corridor; the bare boards creaked beneath their feet. The walls curved gracefully to the left, smooth except where the plaster had fallen away, revealing the slats.

  As they followed the curve, they saw a single shaft of light, no larger than the end of a finger, shining on the wall to the left. This they discovered to be a spy-hole, complete with a leather rest for the chin and forehead. Carter looked through it and found himself staring through strange glass into Mr. Hope’s bedchamber, the Rose Room.

  “Here’s news,” Carter said. “Take a look. I could have spied upon you at any time.”

  Hope pressed his eye to the glass and grinned. “Not that there is much to see, but it does speak unkindly of the architects. We are standing where the portrait hangs over the mantel, probably looking out from one of your ancestor’s eyes.”

  “We should use my coat to shroud the lantern, in case we discover more of these peepholes. We don’t want our light to be seen through the glass.”

  With the lantern partially mantled, an illumination crimson beneath the coat, only the nearest floorboards were lit. They advanced farther down the curving passage until they came to another spy-hole. Through the opening Carter saw Lady Murmur sitting at a low table, clothed in a yellow, silk day dress, studying her face in a mirror. Duskin sat to the side on a sofa. Carter could hear him clearly: “You should have let me go, Mother, to help defend the house. I’m sixteen, no longer a child.”

  Murmur gave a low chuckle, but did not take her eyes from the mirror. “We cannot risk the future lord of Evenmere being injured in an absurd battle. War is for others; you were born to lead.”

  “No leader was ever respected who wouldn’t command his men in war. I saw Carter in the very midst of it. If I didn’t hate him so, I would admire his courage.”

  “You speak your father’s nonsense,” Murmur said. “It is the idealism of youth, which he never outgrew. You must learn to be practical.”

  Duskin shook his head. “Mother, I must learn to follow my own way. Perhaps Father was idealistic, but he was brave and kind as well.”

  “You were only six when he vanished; you do not remember him clearly.”

  “I do! There was strength about him, whatever his faults. Let me be an adult!”

  Murmur’s voice hardened. “Very well, if you wish to be an adult, then let us speak of adult matters. The anarchists could never enter the library on their own, not even with the keys, unless they were invited.”

  Even through the spy-hole, Carter saw his half brother’s eyes widen. “Mother, you cannot mean …”

  “They will be the force which makes you Master. Do you think we can simply stand around and wait for Carter to relinquish his title?”

  “What have you done?” Duskin was on his feet. “The anarchists, invited here? How can we control them? How could you do this to the house?”

  Murmur rose to meet him. “How could I not? You must become the lord of the manor. When I married your father, I was a princess of Meszria; I came here thinking to live in a world of high politics, of great riches. But he would not rule that way, speaking always of what the house wanted, what the house needed, as if it were a living thing. Power must be used; there are many kingdoms beyond the White Circle owing no allegiance to us; treaties must be made, kingdoms must be broken if they will not deal with us. We are close for the first time; the anarchists can help our cause.”

  “Say no more!” Duskin cried, tears in his eyes. “I won’t hear it! Are we traitors to all I’ve ever known? Did Brittle die on my account?”

  “Brittle was an old fool, and there are always casualties. But I did not know he would be harmed.”

  “Brittle was my friend! I won’t hear it!”

  Duskin lurched outside Carter’s view, and a moment later a door slammed shut. Lady Murmur looked down at the carpet a moment, frowning, then sat back in the chair to study her eyebrows.

  Carter withdrew from the spy-hole. He motioned to his friend and they moved farther down the passage, out of earshot.

  “I heard it all,” the lawyer whispered. “We have found our betrayer.”

  “Let us see what lies beyond,” Carter said.

  The passage continued to curve, and the men looked into many rooms, so that Carter realized they were making a slow circle all along the second floor, past the Rose, Lilac, Marigold, and Daffodil bedrooms, the drawing room, boudoir, day nursery, night nursery, sick room, into the women’s servants’ quarters, around past the workroom and the schoolroom. At last they reached a narrow stair, which he knew must be built opposite the wall running beside the main staircase. Tattered brown carpet covered the steps, less for decoration, he thought, than to muffle the footsteps of any going that way. Through a spy-hole he discovered he could indeed see the ebony banister and the green carpet of the main stairway.

  As they descended the stair, the ceiling, constructed of cedar planks, sloped so as to remain slightly above their heads, making it seem they walked down a long tunnel. The sweet cedar scent buoyed their spirits, and they quickly reached a landing, with a portal leading to their right, while the stair continued downward into darkness. Carter’s lamp revealed a long passage, much like the first, which he felt must allow viewing of the ground floor. He decided to follow it at once, and to return after to explore the lower regions.

  Once within the passage, he saw another corridor intersecting from the south, so that he suspected the course made a complete circle around the entire floor. This was later confirmed, as they passed the rooms in a slow circle, beginning with the main stair, then proceeding to the gentlemen’s room and the picture gallery, where hung the portraits of all the Masters of the High House in neat, orderly lines; through the spy-hole Carter saw his great-grandfather, Ethan Anderson, in his white navy uniform and gray moustache. Beyond the picture gallery they passed the morning room, the drawing room, then east beside the transverse corridor, gentlemen’s stair, the entrance hall, the dining room, the butler’s bedroom and pantry, north along the housekeeper’s corridor and room, east beside the scullery, kitchen court, and kitchen, back south along the servants’ hall, then west beside the men’s corridor, the footman’s room, and the gun room. There were other rooms as well, but these lacked spy-holes.

  “The library should be next,” Hope said. “Is it safe to go there, do you think?”

  “It’s the reason I came this way. Captain Glis has barred the doors, but I want to get a glimpse.”

  They had gone quietly before, but now went with even greater caution; the floor was bare wood and creaked at every step. At this side of the house the ceiling opened above them to ten feet, and they could hear the rain against the eaves, so that they knew they were under the lower roofs to the south. It made it more difficult to hear, but the soft beating muffled their footfalls as well.

  Behind the first spy-hole lay the foyer area just inside the library entrance. Beneath the light of a lantern stood two men with cruel eyes and hawk noses, dressed in gray mail and heavy, black boots. One carried a truncheon in his left hand, the other was casually desecrating a dolomite column with a long, glistening knife. From his viewpoint, Carter saw that none of the anarchists were near the hallway
doors.

  Carter led farther down the passage, to the next observation point, where he found himself looking across the bookshelves. A dim candle burned upon a small table, and three more of the anarchists sat there, eating from oily leather bags and spilling wine across a pair of books stacked on the table. Carter could just see their faces within the circle of light.

  “How did they manage it?” one asked, in a worried voice.

  “They have an amplitude of armaments,” another said, a portly, bearded man, with close-set eyes like a boar.

  “But the whole company disintegrated in a twinkling, and not a book destroyed,” the first said. “It could easily have been us. I don’t like it. I will not be fodder, not even for the Bobby.”

  “I wouldn’t let him hear you say it,” the third man said. “At any rate, consider the remuneration when the house is ours. Not just monetary rewards, although those will be ample; we will be the harbingers of the New Order. It will be glorious. Those that are dead will have no share, leaving more for us.”

  “If we live to see it,” the frightened man said.

  “Hush, he comes,” the portly man said.

  The Bobby entered Carter’s view, his face devoid of ears, nose, or mouth, but possessing large, dark eyes under heavy brows.

  “We have discovered a way into the basement,” he said, though no lips moved. “I want two of you to come with me. We have a task there.”

  “Are two enough?” the frightened man asked.

  “There is little danger. We simply have to open a door. We can’t reach the Entropy Door in the attic; the dinosaur guards it too well, but this one has no watchmen at all. Come quickly.”

  Two of the men followed the Bobby away into darkness, while their timid comrade remained at the table, drinking his wine.

  “We have to follow,” Carter whispered. “Down the stair.”

  They hurried along the passage, and turned a corner, only to discover that the way opened into a small room, with a metal canister lying upon the floor.