Happenstance Found (Books of Umber #1)

by Catanese, P. W

  “You don’t understand,” Hap said, with his voice rising to a shout. “That ship was following us. And now it’s here. Lord Umber has to know!” He saw a window at least ten feet overhead, and called out: “Lord Umber! Lord Umber!”

  “Master Happenstance, I must ask you to—”

  Hap didn’t mean for the next thing to happen. In his frantic state, he jumped. He only wanted to be heard more clearly through the window, but he’d forgotten how high his legs could propel him. The curved blocks of stone flew past, and his chin rose past the windowsill. He heard Lady Truden gasp. Before he dropped earthward again, in that instant between rise and fall, he glimpsed something he wasn’t meant to see.

  Umber sat at a desk inside. He’d turned halfway around, probably wondering about the shouting, and so he saw Hap’s face appear. Umber raised his hand, palm out, and leaned sideways to hide whatever was on the desk. Hap saw the corner of something smooth, bright, and silver. From behind Umber’s shoulder came an alien glow with a cold, blue quality that Hap had never seen before.

  A terrible expression transformed Umber’s face. His eyes widened at first, and his jaw fell, but then fury ignited in his eyes and his lips pulled back in a snarl. “Hap—never!” came his shout, even before Hap’s feet touched the ground again.

  Lady Truden’s fingers dug into Hap’s shoulder like an eagle’s talons.

  “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” Hap cried.

  “Lady Truden!” shouted Umber. He was at the window now, with his fists around the bars.

  Lady Truden’s teeth were clenched, and her ashen face trembled. “My apologies, Lord Umber, the boy ran ahead, and I had no idea he could leap so high.”

  Umber rubbed his face up and down and took an enormous breath, holding it before exhaling. When he lowered his hands, his face had returned to a more normal state. It wasn’t the happy countenance that Hap had gotten used to, but at least Umber didn’t look ready to commit an act of violence anymore.

  “I’ll be right down,” Umber said. He reached out and closed the window’s shutters.

  “That was unforgivable, young man,” Lady Truden said, tightening her grip. “Above all things, Lord Umber’s privacy must be respected. No one who breaks that rule is allowed to stay.”

  A lump swelled in the middle of Hap’s throat, making it hard to breathe. His eyes felt warm, and moisture blurred his vision. Where will I go now? he wondered. He knew no family, no friends; only the people he’d met since he awoke underground.

  The door to Umber’s tower opened, and Umber stepped out. His face was red, and his mouth was a thin, straight line. “Tru, why don’t you head downstairs? I’d like to talk to the boy.”

  Lady Truden released Hap’s shoulder and clasped her hands in front of her waist. “Shall I pack his things?”

  “Hap doesn’t have any things. And he isn’t going anywhere. We can hardly banish him for breaking rules that were never explained. Don’t you agree?”

  Lady Truden’s shoulders twitched. “Of course, Lord Umber. I will be in the grand hall if you need me.”

  Umber nodded. He watched her descend the steps. Then he turned to Hap just as Hap dabbed the corner of his eye, smearing a tear before it trickled down.

  The corner of Umber’s mouth turned up. “Don’t worry, Hap. You won’t be evicted.” The half smile vanished. “But you have to tell me something. What did you see, when you were at the window? I want to know exactly what you saw.”

  Hap’s hands shook, so he stuffed them in his pockets. “N-nothing, really. I saw you, at a desk. And behind you … there was a glow. I saw the corner of something … just a corner. It looked like silver. Shiny silver.”

  “That’s all you saw? Are you certain?”

  Hap nodded. Umber scratched his chin and took another deep breath. “I have a few … magical objects, Hap. Some I keep to myself, that’s all. But nothing like that will happen again, will it?”

  Hap swept his head vigorously from side to side. “No. Not ever.”

  Umber rubbed his hands together, and the sparkle returned to his eyes. “Well, as I recall, you were shouting for me. What was that all about?”

  Hap’s eyes widened. For a moment, he’d forgotten. “The ship that followed us—it’s here!”

  Umber hurried to the terrace wall and squinted at the distant vessel. There were more ships in the harbor than the docks could accommodate, and many were anchored offshore. The ship with the serpent prow was moored farther out than the rest.

  “Could be the same vessel,” Umber said. He gnawed his bottom lip for a moment. “I’ll send word ahead, and my men can investigate. You and I will head to the market soon, and then we’ll stop at the docks to learn what we can.”

  The market was colorful, noisy, and crowded with jostling bodies. Musicians, jugglers, and acrobats performed, and shoppers haggled over food, furniture, clothes, jewelry, perfumes, and other wares. Hap would have been enthralled if he weren’t so busy watching for his stalker. Was Occo closing in even now, sniffing the air for his green-eyed prey? He was glad Oates was with them, leading the way through the crowd.

  Perhaps sensing Hap’s nervous state, Umber pointed out the Kurahaven Guard: soldiers of the king who patrolled the streets and the top of the harbor wall. They were easy to spot with their feathered hats, sleeveless purple surcoats and capes, and the sabers at their hips. “See the four symbols on the royal coat of arms?” Umber asked, pointing at the shield-shaped emblem on their chests. “The crown, the sun, the mountains, and a shell for the sea. Those are the king’s guard, sworn to protect the people. But if you see silver or green capes, those are the private guards of the princes—Argent the eldest, and Loden the youngest.”

  Hap thought that a distasteful expression had flickered on Umber’s face when he spoke that last name. Then he remembered something else he’d been told. “Aren’t there three princes? Doesn’t the middle prince have his own guard?”

  Umber laughed. “Galbus? Oh no, his interests lie elsewhere. You’ll see when we go to the palace. It’s his birthday celebration tonight, you know.”

  Wherever they walked, Umber drew attention. He had his hand shaken so often and so vigorously that Hap thought it might snap off. Women smiled and children waved. Nearly as often, Hap’s eyes captured less flattering attention. The adults nudged and whispered while children pointed and stared. Hap took to walking about with his lids squeezed nearly shut, peering through the narrowest of slits.

  “Finally,” Umber said as they arrived at a green- and white-striped tent. “The clothier. Do you know what a clothier is, Hap?”

  Hap thought about it. It was like pumping the handle of a well; the answer gushed out a heartbeat later. “Someone who makes or sells garments.”

  Umber gave Hap the usual curious, delighted stare. “That might have been an obvious one. But still, for a boy with no memory, you have an astounding vocabulary, Hap.”

  Before Hap could think of a reply, the flap of canvas that served as the door flew open and a plump, well-dressed man burst out of the tent. A gap-toothed grin erupted between the fellow’s curling mustache and sculpted beard. All the hair on his face was shiny with wax and never moved, even when he turned his head from side to side.

  “Lord Umber, my valued friend and customer!” the fellow cried.

  “Poncius! May we enter?”

  “Of course, of course!” Poncius bellowed, holding back the canvas door. Umber and Hap went in while Oates stood at the entrance with his burly arms crossed, facing the crowd.

  “Let me get directly to the point, Poncius,” Umber said. “This boy Happenstance has only the clothes on his back.”

  Poncius wrinkled his nose at the sight of Hap’s bedraggled tunic. “An insufferable tragedy.”

  “Hap will meet the royals this evening and must be suitably dressed,” Umber said.

  “Unconditionally!” the clothier exclaimed. His eyebrows contorted as he inspected Hap from head to toe.

  “A full wardrobe
from the shoes up.”

  “Wonderful,” Poncius said, tapping his fingertips together.

  “He should also have a hat. One he can pull down to shade his eyes when he likes. Perhaps you’ve noticed his striking eyes.”

  “Not until you just mentioned them,” Poncius said, stealing perhaps his seventh glance at Hap’s eyes. “But a hat he shall have.”

  Hap felt his heart warm. He would like very much to be able to tug the brim of a hat over his brow.

  Hap stood on a box in front of a tall mirror as Poncius buttoned him into yet another silk shirt. His old tunic, trousers, and undergarments were heaped on the floor. The clothier had dropped them there, unwilling to touch them for a second more than necessary.

  “Look at that mirror, Hap,” Poncius said. “Have you ever seen a glass like that? What a reflection! It was a gift from Lord Umber. Another one of his miracles.”

  “A minor innovation,” Umber said, waving his hand. He stood by a rack of clothes, pawing through them.

  “Minor, my eye!” Poncius cried. “The wonders never cease with your master, Hap!”

  “I’m nobody’s master,” Umber said.

  Poncius prattled on. “The master of progress, that’s what you are. Lord Umber brings us music, plays, medicine. He tells us how to properly design our buildings and ships. We are a nation transformed, in a matter of years. He even creates cuisine! That wonderful dish, Lord Umber, the one that’s round and flat, with the toppings. What do you call that? Pete-something?”

  “Pizza,” Umber replied absently, examining a shirt he’d pulled from the rack.

  “Pete-suh! A glorious concoction.” Poncius yanked on the hem of Hap’s shirt, smoothing the material. “Look at you now, Hap! Quite an improvement over that ancient, back-country tunic.”

  Umber’s head snapped toward them. “Back-country? Of course, I should have thought to ask! Poncius, what do those old clothes tell you about the wearer? You of all people would know.”

  The clothier’s lip curled as he lifted the tunic to inspect it. “Well. No offense, young man, but these belong to a country lad of modest means. Made of a coarse and cheap grade of wool, when linen would certainly be more comfortable.” He thought for another moment. “It’s quite out of style. Ancient is an exaggeration, but look at those boots: square-toed. Ugh! And I haven’t seen toggles like that for years. Hand-me-downs, I suppose. Yet they’re not so worn, are they?”

  Umber stepped closer, staring with his head tilted to one side. This was a customary gesture of his, Hap realized, whenever Umber’s attention was keenly focused. “Old, you say. But could you guess where they came from?” Umber asked. “What land?”

  Poncius brought the fabric to his face for a closer look. “The red dye doesn’t tell me much—probably from madder root, and that’s common everywhere. Still, from the cut and the stitching, I’d say these are not from so far away. Not Kurahaven, certainly, but maybe the hinterlands of Celador.”

  Poncius would have continued, but the tent brightened as someone pushed the door aside and entered.

  “Hello, Sandar,” Umber said. Captain Sandar bowed to Umber and nodded to Hap, who raised a hand in greeting.

  “Pardon the intrusion, Lord Umber,” Sandar said. “I have news about that ship, and I heard you’d come this way.”

  “Tell me,” Umber said, clasping his hands behind his back.

  Sandar cleared his throat as if his mouth had gone dry. “The ship is deserted. I had a pair of my crew row out and hail her. Nobody answered. The boys drew closer, meaning to board, but … a strange thing happened.”

  Hap felt like he couldn’t breathe. Umber’s head listed even farther to the side. “Yes?”

  “They … got spooked. Something large bumped them from below and nearly tipped them over. Nothing happened after that; it was like a warning. But they rowed back as fast as they could.”

  Umber bounced on the balls of his feet. His eyes gleamed. “Really now?”

  “That’s not all, Lord Umber. Others in my crew were in the market this afternoon. They say a stranger is wandering around asking questions. I think he’s looking for Hap.”

  “What!” cried Hap. He nearly fell off the box, but Poncius steadied him.

  “It’s true,” Sandar continued. “My first mate Jonas saw the stranger himself. He said it was a tall fellow in a weird sort of cloak. And his whole face was covered by a sack of gauze, with a single eyehole on one side. Jonas said the stranger had an odd manner of walking as well, like a long-legged bird. He just calls him the Creep now, he frightened him so.”

  “The Creep,” Umber repeated, smiling.

  Sandar shook his head. “The Creep asked Jonas, in a whispery sort of voice, ‘Have you seen anyone with eyes like these?’ He held out his hand—hands with gloves on them, even on this warm day—and showed Jonas a pair of sparkly green marbles. Jonas said they looked just like Hap’s eyes.”

  Hap put his fingertips to the corner of his eyes. His legs felt numb. He heard Poncius gulp beside him.

  “What did Jonas do?” asked Umber.

  “Jonas is no fool. He told the Creep he knew nothing,” Sandar said. “The Creep said Jonas should come to the docks at midnight if he learned the whereabouts of this green-eyed person, and he would be rewarded. Then he showed Jonas a bag filled with gems.”

  “Perfect,” Umber said, clapping his hands.

  “Perfect?” Hap cried, as his voice cracked. “How is that perfect?”

  “Perfect because we know where and when to find this Creep. At midnight, we’ll set a trap for our pursuer, and find out what he wants. Don’t look so down, Hap! Let’s not presume he’s evil. Perhaps he’s a friend, with information. Maybe this will help us solve the mystery of you.”

  Hap’s shoulders slumped. “I suppose.” But he’d read the note. He knew better.

  Umber rubbed his hands together. “For now, while this Creep is lurking about, we should get you back to the Aerie. Poncius, we’ll take all that stuff, and what Hap is wearing now. Throw in some everyday garments as well. And quick, find us a hat.”

  The hat looked like an enormous blue acorn, but Hap was pleased to put it on and pull its brim down. They walked briskly through the crowd, with Oates in front and Umber and Sandar at his sides, heading for Umber’s carriage.

  “Hap, let’s try to keep your abilities a secret for the time being,” Umber said. “I wouldn’t go leaping about, for example. And wear that hat just like you’re doing. Just to be safe.”

  “Lord Umber?” Hap said quietly.

  “Hmm?” Umber’s eyes darted left and right across the market.

  “About that note …” Hap’s voice faltered. He wanted to tell Umber that he’d read at least part of the message from WN. It would be a relief to talk openly about this “Creep” who might be the creature named in the message. And he ached to know what the rest of the strange contents of the note might mean: What sort of skills were supposed to arise in him? What was the ancient law that he violated merely by existing? What did WN mean when he wrote to Umber about “that world of yours”? And, most of all, what did the rest of the message say?

  But the guilt of spying and the fear of how Umber might react overwhelmed him, and he couldn’t squeeze out the confession. Before he gathered his strength to try again, Umber spoke.

  “Now, Hap. I know you’re curious about the note. But I already told you. I’m not going to—”

  Umber ended the sentence abruptly as the crowd before them shifted. A tall figure in a pale cloak stood a few strides away. His head was covered by a sack of gauzy material, with a single ragged hole for one eye. He was leaning on a staff and towering over a merchant whose table was covered with candles. Hap saw a large gloved hand come out of the long-sleeved cloak, cupping a pair of glittering green spheres. And he heard, quite clearly, the hoarse, whispering voice: “… with eyes like these?”

  CHAPTER

  11

  “The Creep,” whispered Sandar.

  Ha
p didn’t mean for his head to jerk up and lift the brim of his hat. It happened instinctively as he tried to get a better look at the stranger. At the same moment, the candle seller, looking for help, glanced in Hap’s direction. The man’s mouth dropped open, and the gesture caught the Creep’s attention.

  Hap lowered his face to shield his eyes as the Creep’s gauze-covered head snapped around. The Creep came toward them, putting himself in the middle of the lane with one enormous stride. There was a disturbing, unnatural quality to the way his legs shifted inside his long cloak.

  “Step away from the little one,” he said. He sounded like a man who’d shouted all day and lost his voice. The sun shined into the ragged hole in the sack that masked his face, and Hap glimpsed a blue eye inside. It was nested in a raw, wounded-looking socket. The Creep blinked, and a wrinkled lid flapped across the eye.

  Oates widened his stance and crossed his arms, and Sandar put a hand on the hilt of his sword. Umber cleared his throat and spoke. “Hello, stranger. Perhaps we should introduce ourselves?”

  Hap gritted his teeth. He’d had enough of keeping his face down and stealing glances; he wanted to see what was happening. When he looked up, and his green eyes were revealed, the Creep shuddered, and a foul slurping sound came from behind the gauzy mask.

  “Leave him for me,” the Creep said. He took another long stride forward, halving the distance between them. For just a moment, the tip of the Creep’s bare foot poked from the bottom of the cloak. His toes were long as fingers, splayed wide, and each ended in a hooked yellow nail.

  “I don’t think he’s a friend,” Hap said, stepping back.

  Beside him, Sandar quietly drew his sword. “Steady, Happenstance.”

  The crowd sensed something was about to happen. The people drew back, creating an arena in the center with spectators at either end. Behind the Creep, two of the Kurahaven Guard pushed their way into the open space and drew their sabers. They jutted their jaws, eager for a fight. One of them took a hunter’s horn from his belt and blew a piercing note. The Creep’s head listed at the sound, but he didn’t turn to look.