The House of Power

by Patrick Carman

  But Samuel worried about leaving the climbing figure. Maybe it would be gone when he came back. If that happened, Lord Phineus would be angry. The longer Samuel waited, the more certain he became that he needed to stay.

  A boy my own age climbing into the Highlands. How can that be? Samuel felt his own scrawny arms and was embarrassed—no, jealous, really—of the boy who was now only twenty feet below him. How was it that a boy could climb so high—and why was he risking his life to do it? How dare he.

  “You there! I see you coming up the cliff!” Samuel blurted out in his most threatening voice.

  After a brief moment of acute fear, Edgar looked up and saw Samuel’s little head poking over the edge in the night sky. The voice surely had not belonged to an adult, and the size of Samuel’s head was a comforting reinforcement.

  “How did you come to be here at such a late hour? It’s almost as if you were waiting for me,” asked Edgar in his friendliest voice.

  Samuel thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to answer. What sort of boy was this?

  “You can’t just come crawling up here,” said Samuel. “It’s not normal. And anyway, it’s forbidden. Didn’t your parents tell you that?” But Samuel was having trouble hiding his curiosity, and for all his attempts to bully this boy invading his world, he really only wanted to know more about him.

  “I haven’t any parents to speak of,” said Edgar. He had arrived only a few feet below the Highlands, and the two boys could see each other now in the faint light. Edgar smiled and put a hand up where Samuel could take it, but instead Samuel reeled back on his elbows and loose dirt cascaded down on Edgar’s head. Samuel hadn’t realized how uncertain he was of this stranger until his hand had come so close. He had been trained to view those from below as dirty and unsafe.

  “Does everyone in the Highlands have such manners?” asked Edgar. There was good humor in his voice, and this calmed Samuel as he returned to gaze over the cliff’s edge.

  “Come on, then,” continued Edgar. “Can’t you give me a hand?”

  “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Edgar.”

  A moment passed in the quiet of the night, and the two boys looked off nervously, wondering what the other was thinking.

  “I hope I don’t regret this,” said Samuel, finally coming around. After a good deal of hesitation he reached his arm down. Edgar took Samuel’s hand and found it to be small and frail. There was no strength in it, and Edgar was sure the two of them would go tumbling off the edge. To Samuel’s relief, Edgar let go of his hand and quickly scaled what remained of the cliff on his own. Once at the top, he moved away from the edge, allowing himself a sigh of pleasure at feeling the solid ground beneath his feet.

  Samuel shared his name with Edgar but could think of nothing else to say.

  “So this is the Highlands,” Edgar observed, drawing in a big breath of fresh air. “It smells good up here.” Edgar looked around and wished he could see the new world he’d arrived in, but found only the shadows of trees in the distance.

  “I live in a grove like that one back home,” said Edgar, pointing toward the shapes of clustered trees he could make out in the dark.

  “That’s not a grove, it’s just a bunch of trees. They don’t produce anything. They just sit there and hide what’s behind them.”

  “What’s behind them?” asked Edgar, so curious that he began walking toward the trees.

  “No! Don’t! You’ll be seen… and they won’t be happy you’ve come. You’ll get into trouble.” Edgar came back and sat down next to Samuel.

  The two boys were at the edge of the Highlands, and neither of them knew what to say or do. Samuel had been told all his life that people like Edgar were good for only one thing: providing for the needs of the Highlands. For his part, Edgar knew only that the people of the Highlands controlled everything in his home, and that they took whatever they wanted. Edgar was awfully short on time, but he wasn’t at all sure he could trust this boy of the Highlands. The two had been trained to dislike one another, even though they’d never had the occasion to meet until now.

  “Why have you come here?” asked Samuel. There was no accusation in his voice, only genuine curiosity.

  Now that he was sitting down after hours of rigorous climbing, Edgar realized how tired and hungry he was. It was almost impossible to imagine that soon he would have to go back down, and he didn’t know when he would be able to return.

  “I don’t know if I can trust you,” Edgar began. “But I don’t have a lot of time, either. I have to be getting back to the grove or I’ll be missed, and then Mr. Ratikan will punish me.”

  “You’re not armed and you don’t look like a threat to me,” said Samuel. “I don’t see what I would gain by turning you in. Nobody needs to know we’ve seen one another.”

  Edgar sensed Samuel’s concern and curiosity. “I don’t know,” he said. “I want to trust you, but I’ve only just met you.”

  Samuel thought a moment before trying once again to convince a boy from Tabletop that a boy from the Highlands could be trusted.

  “It’s not what you think,” said Samuel. “Here in the Highlands. I don’t like it here. I don’t want to tell anyone you’ve come, don’t you see? I want it to be our secret.”

  Edgar continued to ponder the matter. It might be that this boy would betray him in the end, but Edgar had come to have the book read to him, and he’d found someone who might be able to do it—someone who appeared trustworthy.

  With some hesitation, Edgar told Samuel about the man he thought might be his father, about the many years of climbing by himself, and about the thing he had been looking for but could not find (although he didn’t yet say exactly what it was).

  Samuel listened carefully to everything Edgar said before making his reply.

  “So you’ve spent your whole life secretly breaking the rules and putting your life in danger, all so that you might find this thing that someone left for you?”

  Edgar nodded enthusiastically.

  “But why did you come all this way?” asked Samuel.

  Edgar didn’t answer right away. Could he really trust this scrawny boy who wouldn’t last a day in Mr. Ratikan’s grove? He couldn’t be sure, but he knew he had been very lucky to be discovered by another boy nearly his own age rather than a guard. He decided it was a risk he was willing to take.

  “I found what was left for me,” revealed Edgar. He reached his hand into the large pocket sewn onto the front of his shirt, but then waited another moment.

  “You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to,” said Samuel. He was curious, but he didn’t want to scare Edgar away. “If you go back, I’ll pretend I never saw you.”

  Edgar pulled the book out of the pocket and held it close in the night air. Samuel was immediately enthralled at the sight of it. He loved books, and this one looked different than any he’d seen before. It wasn’t like those in the Highlands, which were all large, heavy, and bound in hard casings. This one was small and leathery. It looked old and worn.

  “Where did you get that?” asked Samuel, his voice betraying his excitement. But when he took his eyes off the book and looked at Edgar’s face, he suddenly remembered the rules.

  “You can’t read,” said Samuel. “That’s why you’ve come, to find someone who might read it to you.”

  Edgar didn’t respond. He looked away into the darkness with a wounded expression on his face.

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” said Samuel. “It’s not your fault.”

  Edgar was unconvinced. “You don’t know how lucky you are, living up here. It must be paradise.”

  “It isn’t like that,” said Samuel. He hesitated, then added, “I’ll tell you a secret of my own and you’ll see.”

  Samuel pointed to somewhere in the distance, down the line of the cliff.

  “Down that way, about a year ago, my father fell off the edge. Since then my mother hasn’t been the same.” Samuel rubbed a spot below his
lip, feeling an itch somewhere beneath the surface of his skin. “Now I spend a lot of time in my room by myself. I don’t like to go out.”

  This was an important moment for Edgar, for he realized something that he had never thought of before: He was lonely. Sleeping alone in the grove, protecting his secrets, staying away from the other children. He’d had a certain feeling all along but somehow never understood what it was. And there was something more. Edgar understood, for the first time, that there were two kinds of loneliness. One happened because you chose it, and it was all right for a time. The other chose you, and it was never all right. Samuel was living with the second kind, and Edgar felt sad for him.

  And yet, there was something in Samuel’s story that didn’t quite make sense to Edgar. He wondered if Samuel were trying to trick him.

  “That’s odd,” Edgar mused.

  Samuel was taken aback by Edgar’s choice of words. He thought it more tragic than odd that his father had fallen to his death.

  “Is everyone in Tabletop so kindhearted as you?” Samuel said bitterly. He lashed out easily when his feelings were hurt.

  “It’s just—well—to be honest, the story is a little hard to believe.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean if someone were to fall out of the sky into Tabletop, I think I would have heard about it. Everyone talks. It’s not the sort of thing that wouldn’t get around.”

  This took Samuel by surprise and he thought on it a moment. Could it be the story had been false? Who would invent such a horrible tale? Samuel didn’t know what to say.

  “I really am sorry about your father,” said Edgar, shaking Samuel from his daze.

  Samuel tried to put the stirring new thoughts out of his mind. “Shall we have a look at that book?”

  This time Edgar didn’t hesitate. He held it out, and Samuel took it from him.

  “There isn’t much time,” said Edgar as Samuel examined the cover. “I work in Mr. Ratikan’s grove—right down there—and he’ll be looking for me in the morning. He’ll have my hide if I’m not there come first light.” Edgar looked wearily toward the edge of the cliff. “And it will take me a long while to get down.”

  “This is a strange book, Edgar.”

  “Why do you say that? Does it look different than the other books you’ve seen?”

  Samuel tried to think of how to put it. “The paper is so thin and white. All of the books in the Highlands have thick, yellowing pages and hard covers. I’ve never seen anything like it in the Highlands. I wonder where it came from.”

  Samuel opened to the first page and discovered handwriting inside that was so sloppy he could hardly make out what it said.

  “What does it say?” asked Edgar.

  “I’m not sure,” answered Samuel.

  “You can read, can’t you?” There was a panic in Edgar’s voice.

  “Of course I can read!” Samuel retorted. “It’s just the writing is so terrible and there’s hardly any light. I can barely make out the words on the page.”

  Samuel had an unfriendly thought—Who does this boy from Tabletop think he’s talking to?—followed by a better one: I may have found a friend and I shouldn’t think of him that way.

  “The first line is the only one that’s written clearly,” said Samuel. “It says, ‘A book of secret things—for Edgar.’ ”

  A shiver of thrill and delight ran up Edgar’s spine. The book was for him. For him. Those words alone were worth all the trouble it had been to get here.

  “What else does it say? Just the first page—can you read the first few pages?”

  For the next twenty minutes Samuel pored over the words on the first page and tried desperately to piece them together. His reading came in fits and starts, and waiting for the next words to come drove Edgar mad. But in essence what Samuel read to Edgar that night was very close to the following:

  I am in a hurry and must write quickly. I have only tonight to leave for you what I can and to hide it well. I don’t know if this will ever be found, but it is a good precaution, and so I’ll take the time to write it. Using the basket to hide this book of secret things up high will be another challenge, but I believe I can do it without anyone catching me. We shall see.

  Edgar—I’m leaving this for you knowing that most of what I write you won’t be able to understand. If by some miracle you do stumble upon this message, I don’t think you’ll be able to read it (unless an unexpected change occurs). I think you’ll be eleven years old—that’s when this little book would come to you, if it comes at all. My hope is that you’ll hide it until you can find someone who will read it to you. DO NOT give the book to someone in the Highlands without making sure you can trust them. There are many in that part of the world who would do you harm.

  My name is Luther. Some call me Dr. Kincaid. I brought you here, Edgar. Of this I will tell you more if there is time—just know I did what I thought was best for you.

  This is the first thing you must know and it is a hard thing to explain: Atherton is not what you think it is. I will try to tell you the truth in the few pages that follow….

  Both boys sat dumbstruck. A moment of silence passed at the edge of the Highlands. Deep night had come in the reading of the first few pages, and the very last of the grey light had passed. Total darkness had arrived, and suddenly Edgar was aware of the hour.

  “I must go.”

  “Are you sure you can climb down in the night?”

  Edgar leaned out over the edge and saw there were only four or five orange dots from the few remaining fires below. I’ve stayed too long. He looked back at Samuel and held out his hand.

  “Deep night will only last an hour, then the light will slowly return until morning comes. If I leave now, I think I can make it,” said Edgar. “Give me the book.”

  Samuel drew the book closer and tightened his grip. It would be hard to let it go.

  “Why not leave the book here with me? I can figure out what it says, then I can tell you everything when you come back.”

  Edgar knew that Samuel could not outrun him or overpower him. It would not be difficult to take the book and go.

  “Samuel,” Edgar said. “I trust you. I know the book says I shouldn’t, but I do. It’s not that….”

  There was an awkward pause while Edgar tried to explain.

  “I can’t leave it here, Samuel. I just can’t. This is the only thing in the world that truly belongs to me. Let’s read it together. I’ll come faster next time, to the same spot, and we’ll spend a good long time going through it.”

  Samuel wanted to keep the book so badly he almost tore off into the trees with it. But Edgar was the closest thing he had to a friend, and a friend was something he really needed. Samuel held the book out to Edgar.

  “Here’s what we’ll do,” said Edgar, putting the book back in the front pocket of his shirt. “You keep helping me read this book of secret things, and I’ll see what I can find out about what happened to your father. If he did fall from the sky, someone in Tabletop will know about it.”

  Edgar was over the edge of the Highlands, his feet searching blindly for holds in the dark. He was tired, and it would be an even more dangerous trip down than the climb up, but he was determined and anxious to return to the grove before daylight.

  “When will you come back?” asked Samuel.

  Edgar looked up one last time.

  “I’ll need some time to rest.” Edgar seemed to ponder how long it would take to regain his strength for another climb to the Highlands. “Seven nights from now, that’s when I’ll come again. Look for me!”

  And so a pact was made: Samuel would help Edgar read his book, and Edgar would help Samuel find out about his father. The fact that they’d met would be their secret.

  A few moments after they parted, Samuel lost sight of Edgar on the cliff far below. He wanted to call out to him—to say goodbye once more—but he was afraid someone might hear. He returned to his room and spent a sleepless night thinking a
bout his new friend, his father, and all the strange things he’d read in the book at the edge of the world.

  CHAPTER

  7

  A SPY WITH A SLING

  The grey of night had passed and morning light was in the air as Edgar dropped the book of secret things back into its original hiding place on the way down the cliff. He had never been this high up on the wall with daylight upon him, and for a moment he stayed very still, surveying the waking world beneath him.

  From where he clung motionless to the wall, Edgar could see everywhere he’d been in his short life. He had rarely traveled beyond the grove, the small village, and the pastures in between. From above it was a rich blanket of gold and green. There were several people milling around in the village already. Before long it would be completely light, and the world would be alive and watching. Edgar had no protectors—no parents or family—and if danger came he would have no one to depend on but himself. It was hard for him to imagine a worse kind of trouble than being caught in the light of day in such a forbidden place.

  Edgar turned to the wall and began moving once more, slowly but with purpose. Like a droplet of water he slipped smoothly down in silence. It seemed as though he belonged on the cliffs; a person would have to look very carefully to realize he was not somehow part of the rocks themselves. Edgar was one with Atherton.

  When he reached the bottom, he moved swiftly across the dusty expanse to the trees in the distance. But it was already late, and even his best effort was not enough to keep him from return ing to the grove an hour after he was due among the saplings.

  Edgar crept quietly toward the younger trees, twigs crunching as he went, a bright sun turning the leaves transparent overhead. It was a peaceful time of day in the grove. The air was cool but not freezing, and Edgar could almost taste his breath. He ran his fingers over limbs and leaves as he went, and the sound of the leaves softly stirring made him feel sleepy.