Dr. Crow frowned, shaking his head. "It would appear, then, that the Circle is older than we suspected. Not white witches in the beginning, certainly, but perhaps comparatively harmless and discreet in their activities, until they fell under the influence of the troll."
A few more pages, and the ink appeared fresher. Ezekiel read the names with ever-mounting dismay. "Seems half the families between here and Pfalz was touched by this filth. Some of these people is dead: starved out by the witches or cursed by 'em. Or so the rest of us thought, anyways."
"Perhaps they were, in some sense, victims," said Dr. Crow. "It is easy to be drawn into these things, as I have reason to know, but difficult to get out. In most secret societies, death is the penalty for a lapse in loyalty."
He studied the volume for several minutes more. "Were I a hard-hearted man, I should certainly turn the entire volume over to the magistrate at Pfalz. But what you have told me and what I have seen convinces me that there was more criminal weakness here than genuine wickedness—and so I am inclined to be merciful."
He tore out the last three written pages. "The earliest names will be those of the most culpable; those names I will take to the authorities, and any that live shall suffer the full penalty of the law. Granny Hügel and Rudolf Bormann were undoubtedly the ringleaders, but they are dead. As for the names on these later pages: the fright they received this night may incline them to mend their ways. I should like to give them that chance, to live and to work hard to expiate their sins, as I—as others have done before them. But if they will not . . ."
He handed the torn pages over to Ezekiel. "I shall entrust these pages to you. Bury them in a safe place—your grandmother's grave perhaps—or secrete them in the church, for they are dangerous to keep by you. Observe the behavior of your neighbors. If you have reason to suspect even a single instance of black witchcraft in the neighborhood, turn these over to the magistrate at Pfalz. I can rely on you to do this? You will not falter, for the sake of old friendships?"
"No, sir, I won't falter," said Ezekiel, with a stubborn thrust of his jaw. "I've got to live here, don't I? I'm going to marry Tilda and raise a family, and I'll be d----d if I don't do everything in my power to make it a safe place to live!"
"Very good," said Dr. Crow, closing the book and tucking it into some inner pocket in his cloak. "I am content to leave that aspect of the matter in your capable hands."
CHAPTER 24
Wherein Jedidiah improves on his Acquaintance with Mr. Budge.
All through the season of Ripening, Jedidiah worked hard, both in the counting-house and at the other new tasks Master Ule assigned him. He was determined to learn as much as he could about the glass trade, to aid the good old dwarf (as much as it was humanly possible) in the expansion of his business, and so justify his benefactor's faith.
That Master Ule was pleased with his progress, that he was now a vital part of the enterprise, Jed had no doubt. The dwarf was generous in his praise and he demonstrated his approval in other ways as well. Several evenings spent in company at the Ule mansion introduced Jed into dwarf Society, where he rapidly gained favor, for the dwarves valued industry and honest ambition, and were quick to recognize and encourage those qualities wherever they found them. Soon, Jedidiah was receiving invitations not only from the Ules and the Owlfeathers but from all the best dwarf families. In addition, he dined twice with Hermes Budge, the Owlfeather tutor.
So it came as no surprise, near the end of the season, when Jed looked up from his work at the close of one day, to find the tall, solemn tutor waiting to speak to him.
"Mr. Braun, your servant!" Mr. Budge made a low bow. "I wondered if I might have the honor of your company for the evening? I am on my way to the Cat and the Crown, an excellent chop-house, and I thought you might care to accompany me."
Jed stood up and returned the bow. These friendly attentions on the part of a man of such superior education flattered him, but he knew the tutor's means were nearly as limited as his own. "Mr. Budge, I'm obliged to you. But I'd rather . . . that is . . . I would be obliged if you will allow me to play the host. It's only a step to my new lodgings. Let me buy the supper and a bottle of wine; I'd consider it a kindness on your part."
"As you wish," said Budge, replacing his hat.
Jed sealed his inkwell and wiped his pen. He slipped into his coat and picked up his hat. Then he took leave of Polydore Figg, who was also clearing his desk, and followed the tutor out to the street.
The day had been hot, but the evening was foggy; they walked out the door into a chill, swirling mist. Jed reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a woolen muffler, which he wrapped around his neck. His companion also produced a long scarf and a pair of white gloves.
"I wonder, Mr. Braun," said Budge, as they walked to the chop-house, "how much do you know about the aims and the activities of the Glassmakers Lodge?"
So here it was, thought Jed, the thing Uncle Caleb had warned him against time and time again. "They'll be after you for information, mark my words, asking you to join them, hoping you'll blab. Don't you trust them, boy, don't you tell them nothing!"
Yet even so, Jed could not quite believe there was anything sinister, either in Mr. Budge's question or in his motives.
"I know . . . I know they ain't all of them interested just in making glass," he said slowly. "I heard—I've heard about ceremonies, and rituals, and secret vows. I guess everyone knows that much."
"Indeed," said Hermes Budge, striding upright and dignified beside him—looking not at all like a man who was privy to dark secrets and even darker deeds. "And yet I should have thought that the grandnephew of Caleb Braun would know considerably more."
Jed sucked in a mouthful of the misty air and slowly released it. "It would seem I have surprised you, Mr. Braun—have I surprised you?" asked Budge. "But you mention your granduncle often, and also Jenk the bookseller. You make no attempt to conceal your association with either of them, though surely you must know that either name is bound to attract attention from members of the Guild.
"No one wishes to place you in an uncomfortable position, or to urge you to do anything against your inclination," said the tutor. "Indeed, it was just because we feared some—I believe grudge would be too strong a word, for there was never any harm done on either side, so far as I am aware—some predisposition against the lodge on the part of your granduncle, which he may have passed on to you—it was partly because of this that we hesitated so long in approaching you."
They came to a corner and turned down another, narrower street. The lamps were farther apart here, the mist thicker and more clinging. Jed had difficulty making out his companion's face.
"Seems to me," said Jedidiah, "it's an odd sort of thing you should approach me at all. Supposing, of course, this is all leading up to an invitation for me to join your lodge. Who am I that you should want me, if you don't mind my asking?"
"I do not mind you asking at all," said Mr. Budge. "Indeed, I should expect no less. Because you are quite right: our mysteries are not for everyone. The quest for occult knowledge carries many risks. These risks are increased when the seeker is frivolous or dull of mind, so we are exceedingly particular in choosing our candidates. I might add," said Budge, "that there are many men who have served in glass-houses all of their lives and never been invited to join the speculative branch of the lodge.
"As to why we should take an interest in you, and not in the others," said Mr. Budge. "Your name was first advanced by Master Ule as just the sort of bright, decent, honest young man that we are always looking to recruit. His recommendation alone carries great weight, but nevertheless there are procedures which must be observed. I hope you will not be offended, Mr. Braun, when I tell you that my original reasons for cultivating your friendship were in accordance with those procedures. As an educator, I have gained an ability to assess the capacity of young minds, and in like manner I was called upon to evaluate you."
By this time, they had reached the chop-house
, but Jed held back at the door. A warm glow of firelight issued through the mullioned windows; bits of conversation drifted through the door; there was the sizzle of steaks and chops cooking over an open fire. All these invited him to come in out of the dark and the damp, but he lingered on the street, determined to have this out with the tutor before he ventured inside.
"And what did this evaluation tell you?" he asked warily.
Mr. Budge smiled. "If I may say so, Mr. Braun, you lack that quickness which all too often passes for brilliance, but you are steady, studious, and thoughtful, and I believe that you possess an excellent mind. You protest—you are all modesty—but you must allow that I am something of an expert in these matters and ought to know whereof I speak. Moreover, I admire your efforts to better yourself, and if you decline to join our brotherhood, I would still like to think that our friendship could continue.
"I do sincerely believe," the tutor went on earnestly, "that if you were to join our lodge you would learn much that would amaze you, much that would broaden and expand your intellect, and that you would not only benefit from the exercise, but find it the source of deep and enduring pleasure in its own right."
Mr. Budge sighed. "You continue to frown—you look uneasy—it is evident you have inherited your kinsman's distrust of the guild. I understand, and will say no more."
Jedidiah shook his head, shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. " 'Tisn't that so much. It's true that Uncle Caleb doesn't think highly of your guild, but I guess I'm a man now and able to make my own decisions. The fact is, they never did my people any good: mysteries and magic books and all the rest. They did my Uncle Caleb a good deal of harm, and he's not 'a frivolous man', or a dull one. And as for Gottfried Jenk, he's been called a madman—many and many is the time—but never a fool.
"I guess," said Jed, "I guess me and Sera Vorder have this much in common: we've developed a natural aversion to your occult knowledge, all on our own."
"I understand completely," said Mr. Budge. "Pray do not feel obligated to explain any further. And do not fear that this will affect your position or your advancement at Master Ule's glasshouse. I assure you that it will not."
They went inside the chop-house, where Jed purchased two nicely grilled steaks, a pot of gravy, and some roasted potatoes. A stop at the tavern next door provided them with liquid refreshment. Then, with the steaks and the potatoes wrapped up in brown paper and divided between them, a bottle of good wine under Mr. Budge's arm, they continued on their way.
"I will say only this much, and then we shall abandon the subject entirely," said Mr. Budge, as they walked down Tidewater Lane. "If you should change your mind at any time, please feel free to approach me. Or if you should experience a change of heart while I am out of town, you may speak to Mr. Owlfeather or Master Ule."
"Very well," said Jed. He put his hands into his pockets along with the potatoes to keep them warm. "I guess . . . I guess maybe I'll give it some thought, anyway. Are you thinking of leaving town, Mr. Budge? Not permanent, I hope?"
"For a matter of eight or ten weeks, perhaps a little more. I shall be visiting a famous scholar and antiquarian, who leads a very secluded life in the country. I suppose, Mr. Braun," he added politely, "that you have never been out of Thornburg yourself?"
"I've never been anywhere," said Jed. "I've never been anywhere and I've never seen anything much worth seeing. But I mean to travel, by and by."
"I hope that you may one day do so," said Mr. Budge. And he proceeded to regale his companion with tales of his roundabout journey from Imbria into Marstadtt, until they reached the shabby (but eminently respectable) old house where Jed and his Uncle Caleb had recently taken lodgings.
This boarding house had obviously seen better days, but still managed to retain a genteel atmosphere of faded grandeur by virtue of an imposing portico, some worn carpets of oriental design, and a number of still elegant fireplaces. The fireplace in Jed's attic sitting room was tiny, but it was solid marble, and boasted a decorative molding consisting of two miniature Fates, a garland of crumbling roses, and numerous fantastical birds.
Uncle Caleb was not in, as a quick peek inside the two adjoining bedchambers confirmed. Jed knit his brow and gnawed on his lower lip. It seemed that Caleb and his employer were keeping later and later hours. When Caleb did come home, he always looked so old and frail it made Jed's heart ache just to gaze on him. Nor would Caleb deign to eat so much as a scrap of food, declaring he had supped at the bookshop and lacked the appetite. For all that, the expression he wore was not of a man who had eaten well; it was the look of a man who was dying of some insatiable hunger.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Braun. I do not mean to intrude, but has something disturbed you?" asked Budge, coming up behind him.
Reminded of his guest, Jed smoothed out his frown. "Nothing. Or nothing much, I don't suppose." He dropped his parcels on a table by the fire. He brought a three-branched candlestick and some of the finer plates and cups, and pulled up two battered but sturdy chairs.
The two men sat down, unwrapped their suppers, and prepared to eat. But their previous conversation, along with his concern for Uncle Caleb, put Jed in mind of another source of worry. He cleared his throat. "I would be obliged, Mr. Budge—that is, if you wouldn't consider it a violation of confidence—if you would tell me something about your friend Lord Skelbrooke."
The tutor paused in the act of pouring the wine into a willow pattern cup. "What do you wish to know?"
Jed felt himself blushing. "I know that it isn't the custom, among gentlemen of good breeding, to—to freely discuss the respectable young women they happen to know. But Lord Skelbrooke being an old friend of yours, well, I suppose he speaks a little more openly, and that you've a fair idea what goes on in his mind."
Mr. Budge put down the wine bottle. "There is, I believe, a degree of confidence between us."
"Well then," said Jed, all in a rush. "That day that I first met him, I took it into my head that he had maybe formed an attachment to my very good friend—my all but sister—Miss Sera Vorder."
Mr. Budge nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I remember the conversation. The more so, because it struck me as uncharacteristic. I would not have you misunderstand me: Lord Skelbrooke is all that is gentle and courteous in the company of ladies, and I believe they consider him the most gallant of men. But in private, he has expressed himself on the theme of romance in such shocking terms, I would not offend you by repeating them. And indeed, if you knew what I know of his history, you would not be surprised to find him something of a misogynist."
Mr. Budge lifted his cup and took a sip of wine. He sat back in his chair and frowned at the ceiling. It seemed as though Jed's statement had troubled him deeply. "Since the lady is a friend of yours (almost a sister, you say), I take it that you wish to know if Skelbrooke's interest in her is a wholesome one. I wish that I could say that it was, but I really do not know."
Jed's fork dropped on the table with a clatter. He pushed his plate away. Suddenly, he had no appetite at all. "He don't speak of her when you're together?" he ventured.
"Only on that one occasion, when you also were present," said Budge. "I confess that it has been many years since I last heard my poor Francis speak so warmly of any woman. And it is evident that he admires and respects the young lady—which is a remarkable thing in itself. But if he has actually formed an attachment, I am not absolutely certain that would be an altogether fortunate thing for your Miss Vorder. He is generally capable of achieving any thing that he wants, and if he set out to win her regard . . .
Jed sprang to his feet, images of rape and abduction crowding into his mind. "Here now, you don't mean to tell me that this friend of yours is a rogue? One of those arrogant noblemen who takes a fancy to a girl and thinks nothing of ruining her?"
"No, no, nothing of the kind," said Budge. "Heaven forbid that I, who have known him so long and so well, should imply anything of the sort. I believe his essential generosity, his sense of fair play, w
ould prevent him from victimizing any woman in that way. Yet he is undoubtedly a dangerous man, and capable of terrible deeds when the mood is on him. But as to the peril to your Miss Vorder; I believe that would principally pertain to her peace of mind. He would never harm her, not physically, I am very certain of that."
The tutor shook his head sadly. "But to love a man so troubled as Francis Skelbrooke, that would be a heavy burden for any woman to carry."
Jed scowled ferociously. "Sounds like you're talking about two different men."
"Two men . . . a dozen men . . . I have known him to play many different roles, yet in each of them I still see something of my old friend," said Budge, picking up his knife and fork.
Jed resumed his seat, slumped down in his chair. "And I've been encouraging her to see him. Using him to carry notes back and forth. D--n and blister me for a short-sighted fool! He was so soft-spoken and polite, I thought he was perfectly safe."
Mr. Budge skewered a piece of potato with his fork. "You have been employing Lord Skelbrooke as a go-between?"
Jed nodded glumly. "Twice he carried messages from me to her, and once from her to me. I suppose he thought it a fine way to gain her confidence. But what do I do now? Send her a letter, warning her to stay clear of him? That doesn't seem right, somehow, if he's the messenger, and I guess he might open it, anyway."
The tutor took another sip of wine. "He is capable, under certain circumstances, of not only opening a letter entrusted to his keeping but of altering the contents as well. I doubt, however, that he would be moved to open any letter written by you. Among honorable people, he is himself the soul of honor. By all means, warn the lady, if you believe she will heed your advice."
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