by Jeff Wheeler
Stephen was trembling with fear and worry. “I can’t believe he’d do this. Not to me.”
“Who?” Cettie said.
“Mr. Savage,” he replied in disbelief.
Cettie’s blood went cold. “Mr. Savage? Mrs. Pullman’s son?” The mere act of saying the woman’s name made her heart race. The former keeper of Fog Willows had tormented her mercilessly. Her only son, Serge Pullman, had been the overseer of the Dolcoath mines back then.
“Of course him! He quit after Father fired his mother, but who knows the mines better than him? He came to me about a month ago. He offered to help, to share some of the burden. He respected our family, especially Grandfather. He felt he had to walk away all those years ago, but he still didn’t think it was right, what his mother did. It has preyed on him.” He started pacing the room, his hand crushing the letter. Cettie wrenched it away from him.
“You trusted Mr. Savage to oversee the mines again? After his mother betrayed our father?”
“Our father?” Stephen said, eyes flashing with fury. He stabbed himself in the chest with his finger. “My father. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t come. Mrs. Pullman let us do whatever we wanted. She was always kind to me, whatever she did to you.”
Cettie felt her anger rising, but she didn’t wish to meet his emotions with her own. She didn’t trust what she might say.
“I think one thing is very clear,” she said in a measured tone. “You need to get back to Dolcoath immediately and find out what happened.”
“It’s a misunderstanding,” Stephen said, shaking his head. “I don’t think he betrayed us. He wouldn’t have. Not me.”
Cettie licked her lips. “Are you in debt to Mr. Savage?” She saw by his flinch that she’d hit the mark. “How much?”
“What does that have to do with—”
“Don’t be a simpleton, Stephen. Mr. Sloan came here and told me that creditors have been nosing around about your inheritance. I know you have debts. Mr. Savage may have stolen the shipment to repay them. It’s his aim, perhaps, to disgrace you and our family. Revenge, Stephen. It’s a simple-enough motive—and a common one too. Now I may be wrong, and I hope that I am. But you need to return to your duty at Dolcoath and try to make this right. We have a customer who has not received shipment. Make arrangements to send another shipment from our business stores.”
“But that will hurt our interests!” Stephen said, his voice shaking.
“What will hurt our interests most is not keeping our word,” Cettie said firmly. “Now go back to Dolcoath immediately. Tell Phinia and Malcolm that you need to leave at once.”
“I’ll take the zephyr,” Stephen said, but Cettie shook her head no.
“Impossible. I wouldn’t trust you with a sky ship right now.”
His eyes blazed with fury.
“Go,” she ordered. “You go and make this right, Stephen Fitzroy.”
Cettie told Lady Maren everything, of course. Lord Fitzroy would need to be told as well, especially since this was news that could damage the reputation of his family. Before Stephen left, Lady Maren took him to her private room. Cettie was tempted to eavesdrop through the Leerings, but she respected the privacy of mother and son. She also imagined that Stephen might rail against her, and she’d endured enough pain in her heart for one day. Stephen’s defense of Mrs. Pullman had especially rankled her. The woman had subtly poisoned Lady Maren, making her weak and ill in order to strengthen her own influence over the household. She was still in prison, to Cettie’s knowledge. In the Fells.
Cettie rubbed her temples, agonizing over the situation. Phinia and Malcolm were preparing their tempest to depart to Dolcoath, and of course the eldest Fitzroy daughter was in a near panic. Cettie saw the door to Lady Maren’s bedchamber open, and a suitably chagrined Stephen came out. His red eyes showed he’d been crying. When he saw her, he didn’t rail or accuse. Nor did he apologize.
“When I get to Dolcoath,” he said in a subdued voice, “I will contact you through the Control Leering. We won’t get there until late tonight, so I’ll be in touch in the morning.”
Cettie nodded, but then added, “I’ll be up late tonight. You could contact me when you arrive. If you please.”
He didn’t resist her suggestion. “So I will. I’ll have Milk push the tempest hard.” He glanced back at the door. “I’d better go.”
“All right,” Cettie said. He nodded to her and marched away, striding quickly to the main doors.
Cettie watched through the Leerings’ eyes as he left the estate and boarded the tempest. Phinia was gesticulating at him in accusation, and he looked even more shrunken. Moments later, the tempest lifted away and raced back toward the mines.
After seeing them off, Cettie knocked on Lady Maren’s door and then entered the room. Her mother was seated on a chair, hand on her heart, stifling sobs. Cettie came up behind her and knelt to wrap her arms around her.
“I never thought being a mother could hurt this much,” Lady Maren said through her tears. “I thought it was painful when they were children, but now that they’re older, the worries have just grown bigger. And the pain worsens.” She turned and gave Cettie a tear-filled smile. “You did a good thing, Cettie. You handled it so well.” She gazed down at her hands. “I don’t understand it, but that woman, Mrs. Pullman, twisted that boy up. I was so ill when they were little. And that was her fault too. But he cannot forget the kindnesses she did for him. The mothering. It breaks my heart, Cettie. It breaks it in half.”
Cettie’s own tears flowed, and she pressed her cheek against her mother’s back. “She was grooming him to be like his grandfather. I’ve never met anyone as manipulative as that woman, but Father couldn’t see it in her. Even with all his wisdom.”
Lady Maren sniffled and smiled. “He always tries to see the good in people. Even those who hurt him.” Her smile filled with pain. “I’m grateful he was patient with me. I was young once too, and I know that I hurt him deeply. There’s a certain blindness most of the young are afflicted with. Except for you, my dear,” she added, then kissed Cettie’s hair.
“What did you tell Stephen? He seemed suitably humbled.”
“I reminded him,” Mother replied, “that if you hadn’t discovered the secret of the storm glass, we would have lost Fog Willows and Dolcoath. We would have ended up just like the Hardings. He told me about his debts. He has many of them. He’s been playing dominion too much, as well as other games of chance.”
“And it’s as Mr. Sloan said? They’ve lent him credit because he’s bound to inherit something?”
“Precisely. He got used to having coins in his pockets, even though they belonged to someone else. He’s imagined they were his, not that they were lent, not that they would cost him interest.”
“How much does he owe?” Cettie wondered.
“A sizable amount,” Mother replied with a pained sigh. “He began taking the money as soon as he arrived at Dolcoath. He’s deep in the mire. He asked if his father will redeem his debt, and I told him that he probably won’t.”
Cettie’s heart sank again.
“We learn by our consequences,” Mother said with a shudder. “We have enough money to make it go away, but what lesson would that teach him? What debts would he accrue the next time? No, it will be a painful lesson, but he will learn. When his creditors see that Lord Fitzroy won’t rescue him, then they’ll stop lending to him. He earns sizable wages running the mine, just as you do as keeper. I think you’ve handled yours more wisely.” She turned and gave Cettie a hug. “There’s one more matter to discuss,” she continued. “I received a note from Mr. Batewinch thanking me for allowing you to come restore order to Gimmerton Sough. He was very grateful. He asked if there are any servants we might send over, just for a time, to help bring the manor back to its former glory. Mr. Kinross suggested sending Joses for a month or two. How do you feel about it?”
Cettie pursed her lips. “He would do well. He’s followed Kinross around enough
to know how things work. But I’m a little worried about sending him.”
“Why?”
“Because of the son,” Cettie said. “He’s . . . unstable.” She quickly told her about what she’d witnessed at Gimmerton Sough. Lady Maren’s expression filled with worry.
“I have pity for them, but that’s certainly not a good sign,” she said. “Family troubles are the most painful kind. Why don’t you talk to Joses and explain the situation to him? He’ll probably think it an adventure.”
“Probably,” Cettie agreed, laughing.
The two embraced again, and Cettie went back to her work. With the others gone, the estate was quiet and tranquil again. But beneath that semblance of peace, there were rumblings of chaos to come. Father was about to fight a major battle. Anna was going to ask her about Adam. Joses, who had practically begged her on his hands and knees to send him to Gimmerton Sough, would be flying off to danger . . . and so, she sensed, was Stephen.
Cettie stayed awake long after everyone else had gone to bed. She read from her favorite books and held vigil, as she’d learned to do at Muirwood, to calm her nerves and bring her closer to the thoughts and promptings from the Knowing. She needed additional wisdom, and there was no better way to get it than to go to the source.
It was around midnight that she felt the thought pulse from the Control Leering. She set down her book and went to the one by the fireplace. She touched it and felt an instant connection to Stephen’s mind.
He was trembling with fear. She could see him at the manor of Dolcoath, the light of the fire from the hearth exposing the sweat on his face. He was terrified, his mind in a state of shock and panic.
What is wrong? she asked him worriedly.
It’s loose, he thought back. She could hear the noises in his room as if she were standing there herself. And she heard a roar in the background, immediately recognizable to her ears. She’d heard that same roar on her first visit to the mines. The last time the monster trapped in the grotto had gone free.
The creature is loose again, Stephen wailed. I think Mr. Savage did it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DOLCOATH MINES
The panic in Stephen’s thoughts tried to leach into her own. It conjured memories of her childhood she’d sooner bury beneath a mountain. Mr. Savage had also been present for the monster’s last rampage, and given his mother’s duplicity and penchant for scheming, it hardly seemed like a coincidence.
Cettie strengthened the connection between the Leerings so they could speak to each other in their normal voices. The sounds made by the monster were fading. She saw Stephen’s ravaged face more clearly.
“Stephen, the first thing that must be done is to ensure the safety of the workers.”
“I know that,” he said peevishly. “Believe me, they’re terrified and have been for days. When night comes, everyone hunkers down and barricades the doors. No one’s been hurt, but plenty of the villagers have seen it and tracked its movements. The beast—whatever it is—roams freely at night, then returns to the grotto before dawn. We have no idea how to kill or capture it. Those who’ve tried say an arquebus is useless. Savage is gone. And we all know this monster is deadly.”
“I know, Stephen. I’ll contact Father in the morning and—”
“No!” he nearly shouted. “No, you can’t tell Father. Please, Cettie, what will he think? No, I beg you, do not tell him! Let me try and solve this problem. We can tell him afterward. I swear it. Just let me try to put this right . . . help me put it right. You don’t have to, but if you would . . . Please, Cettie. I can’t bear to disappoint him.”
She closed her eyes, moved by the strength of his pleading. He’d never asked her for anything in his life. It was an opportunity to do him a favor, to win his good opinion. But at the same time, her father deserved to know about this situation. It was an emergency of the highest order.
“Please, Cettie. You’re better at Leerings than me. You’re better than any of us, Mother included. I’ve always been jealous of you because of it. Please . . . please help me.”
She breathed through her nose, trying to judge the right thing to do. Her motives were tangled. Was he flattering her in an attempt to save face with his father? Or were his feelings sincere? Would her help truly mend the rift between them? She had no doubt that going to Fitzroy would alienate Stephen further.
“Let me think on it,” she answered gravely. “I’ll contact you again in the morning. If you must, have Phinia and Malcolm take the people away from the mines, especially the women and children and the infirm.”
“Phinia’s gone.”
“What?”
“She fled as soon as she heard the monster roar. They wouldn’t land the tempest.”
Cettie wasn’t surprised, but she was disappointed. Stephen was better prepared for this sort of challenge than his sister—he’d passed the Test—but he wasn’t the kind of man who could be depended on. Maybe she would have to go out there herself.
“I think you should hold vigil tonight,” Cettie told him. “Make sure the men are armed and just wait out the night. It will retreat in the morning.”
“Very well. That’s sound advice.” His voice was calmer now. “Thank you, Cettie. Thank you.”
The next morning, as the first spatters of rain started on the windows, Cettie knocked on Lady Maren’s door and told her everything. She couldn’t trust her own instincts at that moment to choose the best course of action. In her heart, she believed telling Fitzroy was the right thing to do, despite knowing Stephen would be humiliated and outraged. But a part of her still wished to appease her almost-brother.
Lady Maren understood her dilemma and was equally concerned by the additional bad news. Yes, Fitzroy would want to know, but his mind was pressed with the urgency of the upcoming battle. She advised that they wait to share the news, a decision she took responsibility for as lady of the manor. That eased Cettie’s feelings enormously.
During the day, Cettie checked in with Stephen to see what else he had learned. With the sunrise, Stephen’s confidence had increased. He said he would take some men armed with arquebuses down the river walk to the grotto, where he’d inspect the Leerings that should have kept the beast contained. It was a good plan, but Cettie doubted his ability to successfully execute it. There was danger in that place. It had affected her acutely on her one visit there, and if not for Adam’s presence and coaxing, she might have been killed. Remembering him and his efforts to save her brought a flood of warmth into her heart.
There was so much to do and worry about that she forgot Joses had agreed to go to Gimmerton Sough until he approached her while she was doing ledger work at her desk.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, feeling the fatigue of her vigil pressing on her. “I should have made the arrangements before now. Maybe you can go tomorrow.”
“I already asked old Kinross,” Joses said with a grin. “He arranged it. Though I’d rather go with you to Dolcoath, to be honest. I’ve never been.”
“Who told you?” Cettie demanded, upset that the staff might have found out about the family drama.
“Kinross told me,” he said, calming her. “He tells me stuff he doesn’t tell the others. Don’t worry, Cettie. I’m not going to blab it about.”
“You’d better not,” she said, smiling at his choice of words.
“Well, this is good-bye . . . for now . . . at any rate. Thought I’d come see you before leaving.”
“You be careful, Joses. I’m worried about you going there. If that young man strikes you for any reason, I’m bringing you back at once and calling the Law on him. I’ll send a zephyr post to you every day. If things get ugly, you tell the pilot to bring you back here.”
“Cettie,” he complained, “don’t you trust me? If he tries to pop me in the face, I’ll throw him down on his. Raj Sarin taught us both the Way of Ice and Shadows, remember?”
His exuberance and self-confidence tickled her, and she smiled again. “All right, sir. Behave
. Or at least try to.”
“I will.” As he started to back out of her study, he pointed at her. “And I’m coming back to go with you to Lockhaven when the next bidding is due. I hope someone chases us again.”
“You’re a rascal,” she said.
“I know,” he answered smugly, then turned and left.
Fresh reports from Dolcoath came later in the afternoon. Stephen and the men had visited the grotto, but none of them had dared venture close enough to see the actual Leerings. Stephen had sensed them, and they seemed to be working, but something was clearly amiss since they were no longer containing the creature. The miners were not soldiers, and they feared the creature in the grotto more than anything. Stephen said he’d try again the next day and bring braver men with him. Lady Maren, who had joined the conversation, suggested he offer additional wages. Stephen hadn’t thought of that and promised he would do so the next day. Cettie went to bed early, exhausted, but her dreams brought her back to Dolcoath. She was running down the river walk, away from the grotto, hearing a snuffling and grunting noise chasing after her. It wasn’t a vision. At least, it didn’t feel like one. It was only a nightmare.
The following day resulted in similar news. During the night, the monster’s howling could be heard all around the village. Stephen had promised additional pay for those willing to enter the waterfall with him, and while several had agreed, only two had summoned the courage to actually do so. Stephen had ventured into the grotto himself, not very far—his voice shook with fear as he recounted it—and inspected the first of the Leerings carved there. It readily responded to him when he invoked it, yet still the creature continued to escape its lair at night.
The situation at Dolcoath was getting worse, not better, and Cettie had a sinking feeling she would indeed need to go there to help restore order. The weather was foul as the storm continued eastward. She wrote a reply letter to Adam, seeking his advice, and explained that while she and Maren had decided not to tell Fitzroy yet, they’d appreciate his insights since he had lived in Dolcoath for so long. It felt better to do something about the situation. She signed and sealed the letter and brought it to Mr. Kinross to go out with the zephyr post.