‘We could whack him on the head!’ Neesa cried gleefully. ‘Bonk! Bonk, on the head!’
The others laughed. ‘Good idea!’ Rip said and patted the little girl on the back. ‘That’s just what we’ll do.’
When their burly caretaker came with their breakfast Rip and Kay were on opposite sides of the room playing catch with an apple. The man turned to put the tray of food on the table that was usually by the door only to find it had been moved to the centre of the room and shrouded in a sheet that trailed out onto the floor.
‘What’s that doin’ there?’ he growled.
Neesa raised the sheet on one side and said haughtily, ‘It’s my house and this is where it’s s’posed to be.’ She dropped the sheet.
‘You two,’ the man said to the boys, ‘move that back over here.’
‘No!’ Neesa shouted. It was amazing that so much angry sound could come from such a petite source.
‘Please,’ Mandy said, looking pained, ‘can we wait until she’s finished playing with it? If we move it, she’ll yell the house down.’
‘No! No!’ Neesa screamed, startling even her friends with the increase in volume.
‘All right!’ the guard shouted. He shut the door by kicking it with his foot, but couldn’t lock it because of the heavy tray. He glared at the children and the two boys slumped down and sat on the floor, Mandy continued to lie upon her bed with her eyes wide and Neesa was crooning to her doll under the table. Satisfied that no one would move, the guard marched toward the table.
Which was when Rip and Kay yanked the satin rope that had tied back the bed-curtains from its hiding place under the rug to about ankle height and the big man went down, the tray and the food on it going flying with a colossal crash.
The guard tried to break his fall with his hands, but the explosion of breath from him when he hit the floor and a quick, deep groan of pain as something–wrist, or arm–broke, was followed a moment later by the loud crack of his chin hitting the stones.
The man’s eyes rolled up into his head and he lost consciousness. The two boys traded places, winding the rope around the guard’s legs. Mandy leapt off the bed and pulled the sheet off the table and dropped it over the guard’s head; then she and Neesa gathered the points on either side of him and Mandy tied them in a knot, encasing him in a bag.
‘Let’s go!’ Rip said.
The children gathered up the spilled bread, cheese and fruit in pillowcases and ran from the room. To Rip, it was like leaving warm water for frigid air and his teeth gave an involuntary chatter. He looked at the others uneasily and they looked back, pale and obviously frightened. Mandy glanced back into the room behind them.
‘No!’ Rip said and slammed the door, turning the key he was happy to find still in the lock. ‘We can’t go back. Let’s get out of here.’
Their heads swung left and right and they found they were in the middle of a corridor which looked identical at either end; stone walls, high small windows on one side, tiled floors, huge blackened beams high overhead.
‘This way,’ Neesa said, pointing to the right.
‘Why?’ asked Mandy.
Neesa said, ‘Because that’s the right way.’
Mandy glanced at Rip and ignored Kay, then shrugged, heading off to the right. It might be the wrong choice, but at least it was a choice. Judging from the view from their narrow window they must be at the top of the house. ‘Look for stairs,’ Neesa whispered.
Mandy gave Neesa a look, but didn’t say anything.
Rip felt awkward, because he had been the one to force the idea of escape on the others, but someone had to do it. He didn’t know why the older children were content to let whatever horrible things happened to the children who had gone before continue, but he wasn’t going to endure it. He didn’t know if he could act like a leader, no matter how many times he had played one in his imagination, but someone had to do things. If he hadn’t locked the door they all might have bolted back inside. It wasn’t safe in there, but out here felt really dangerous. It seemed to be getting colder for one thing and he felt as though a lot of people were crowding the hallway, or were about to.
Stairs, Rip thought desperately. Where are the stairs?
Neesa was crying, quietly in a tired and really frightened way. Tears poured down her face and she was struggling not to make much noise, but still gave out a high-pitched moaning that didn’t seem to involve breathing since it was continuous. She clutched Rip’s hand like a hot vice, tugging him along, one way, then another. No one else had an idea where they were going, so they just let her lead.
Rip thought she was too scared to complain. He knew he was. He held her hand as much to reassure himself as to keep her close. Otherwise all he’d have to think about was the invisible something that always seemed just about to pounce on them. Or the biting cold that let him see his own breath even though it wasn’t even close to autumn yet.
They’d been creeping about this huge house for what seemed like hours and they were all exhausted. They’d found stairs, but when they’d gone down two flights they’d had to turn around to avoid someone coming up the stairs. Whoever that was had them running up three flights before they took off down the corridor to the next turning. They’d ducked into a room while footsteps paraded up and down outside the door and something seemed to hover just above their heads. At least it had been rest of a sort or by this time they wouldn’t be able to move. After the footsteps had stopped they’d sneaked out and managed to get down two flights but until now they’d still been trapped on the same floor they’d started on.
And all the rooms were empty and full of dust and unseen watching eyes.
Rip released Neesa’s hand and tiptoed to the staircase. Crouching down, he looked over the edge and watched, straining his ears to hear any motion on any of the floors below. Satisfied at last, he waved the others on and they crept down the stairs. Before they could get to the next staircase they heard footsteps and went racing down the corridor in front of them, hearts pounding.
The sense of an invisible pursuer sharpened as a feeling of anger reaching out to smash them began to build. The children ran faster and found it hard going, the air here seemed thinner somehow and the cold bit deeper causing them to stumble and to sob.
We’ve got to hide, Rip thought.
Down the corridor before them a door seemed to beckon. He grabbed the handle and pulled, only to find it locked. Yanking out the guard’s key he tried to fit it into the lock, but his hands were shaking too much. It was like a live thing struggling to get away and he let out a frustrated sob. Mandy grabbed his shoulder and he gasped in surprise.
‘Let’s go!’ she said in a shrill whisper. She tugged on his shirt.
But Rip grabbed onto the door handle, not meaning to be dragged away, and by a miracle it turned. It had only been stuck! Now he grabbed Mandy’s skirt and opening the door dragged her in after him; the two other children followed. He and Mandy together shut the door and leaned their weight against it. Something on the outside hit it hard, rocking the door in its frame and causing a trickle of plaster dust to hiss to the floor.
Rip had a sense of something foul striking the door and then recoiling in hurt or fear. But it hadn’t gone far; he could feel that too. Still, for the moment he felt safe. Safer even than in their prison up above. He turned to look at the room they were in. Kay and Neesa stared at him, pale and frightened. Beside him Mandy gave a sigh and slid to the floor, huddling in on herself, her eyes staring at nothing.
Rip looked around. They were in a bedroom. It was furnished with stark simplicity, and yet the furnishings themselves were finely made, like more of old Emmet’s stories, or the ones Ma had told him about palaces in the sky. The furniture was all carved delicately out of dark wood, and polished, and there was cloth on the seats, fine weave with a pattern in it. There were no mirrors or pictures on the walls, or the large cloth hangings like in the other room, but Rip knew this room was used by gentlefolk. Then he noticed Neesa was
staring and he turned to see where her eyes looked; opposite where he stood was a doorway.
Neesa pointed and said, in soft tones, ‘She’s in there.’
As though drawn, he went toward it, but when he got there he hesitated. Something bad was behind this door. Not something wicked in itself, like what waited for them out in the corridor. It was as if something bad was happening in the room behind the door.
But Rip had to see and fear didn’t hold him long. He opened the door. The room was dim, as though some of the shades of night still lingered there and candles brightened it only slightly. There was a bed in the middle of the room and on the bed was a beautiful young woman. Asleep? No, she wasn’t breathing. The woman was dead. He took an involuntary step backward, then stopped.
Rip looked closer at her, fascinated and appalled. He took in a long, slow breath of horror, having realized somehow that though she should be dead, she wasn’t. Then he slammed the door and leaned against it, feeling sick. When he looked up he saw that the others had also seen what he had. Did you feel it? he wondered, but didn’t dare say anything out loud. It was like the presences: for some reason he didn’t think it would be wise to acknowledge what he’d felt.
‘That’s a dead lady,’ Kay said, whiter than ever.
Neesa whispered, ‘No. She’s not dead.’
‘But she’s not moving,’ Rip said. ‘She’s not breathing.’
‘She’s not dead,’ Neesa repeated. ‘She talks to me.’
‘We can’t stay here!’ Rip sounded accusing and panicked.
The others looked at him in surprise. Mandy said, ‘Where else can we go?’
Rip insisted. ‘We can’t stay here!’
Kay sat on a chair nearest the door and said, ‘I can’t move.’
Neesa came and put her hand on Rip’s shoulder. ‘It’s all right. We’ll be safe here…for a little while.’
Rip didn’t know what to say. He had no idea where else they could hide, so he sat on the floor. He was tired and hungry and scared. Right now, despite the lady in the other room, this place felt safer than any place he had been since waking up.
Rip looked around the room; there was a decanter on a table beside the bed and a goblet. He went over to it and took a sniff. Wine. He wrinkled his nose–he didn’t like wine unless it was well watered. But he was thirsty enough not to really care. He poured himself a draught and he took a swallow.
His eyes flew open. It was good! It spread a fragrant warmth through his mouth and down his throat all the way to his belly. From there it sped to warm his skin. He looked uncertainly at Neesa, then decided that she wouldn’t be harmed by just a little. No doubt she was as thirsty as he’d been.
‘Let’s eat,’ he said. Then bringing the decanter and cup with him, he sat down in the middle of the floor.
Mandy licked her lips, then nodded and fetched out the bread and cheese from her pillowcase. Neesa gnawed a chunk off the loaf with a look of fierce concentration that almost made Rip laugh.
‘We can’t eat here!’ Kay said, barely containing his whisper. ‘There’s a dead woman in there. We’ll die!’
Mandy snorted. She took the loaf from Neesa and broke herself off a piece. ‘We will not!’ she said. ‘That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You always eat when someone dies. Gran died, and we all ate these pastries and things; even Mother, and she was crying.’
‘Drink this,’ Rip said and offered Kay a goblet of the wine.
Kay recoiled, his face full of disgust. ‘I’m not going to drink that! It’s probably poisoned.’
Rip rolled his eyes. ‘It’s not poisoned. I just drank some, do I look like I’ve been poisoned?’
‘Besides,’ Mandy said, offering Kay a piece of bread and a chunk of cheese, ‘who would keep poison on their night table?’
‘I’ll take some!’ Neesa said, reaching out for the goblet.
Rip gave it to her. After she swallowed three times, Mandy forced her hand down and said, ‘Just another sip. Can’t have you passing out on us.’ Rip nodded. Like any farm-boy, he had witnessed the effects of too much wine on his father and the other men in the area during festivals and he knew it wouldn’t take much to get the small girl completely drunk.
Neesa seemed on the verge of complaint when Rip pulled the cup away, but kept her objections to herself. Kay reached, shamefaced, for the goblet.
‘Wait your turn,’ Mandy said and took it for herself.
Kay gave her a weak smile and backed off. He went to the window and looked out. ‘Could we get down from here if we knotted the sheets together?’ he asked.
Rip went over and looked out of the window. It was a sheer drop of perhaps forty feet onto a flagstone courtyard. He just looked at Kay and walked back to the others.
Kay turned from the window, pouting, and slid down the wall to sit in a crouch and eat his bread. After a moment, he began to sob, then to cry in earnest. He made a sad and unattractive sight, his face bright red, his mouth wide open, revealing half-chewed gobbets of bread.
Rip and Mandy looked at one another uncomfortably, uncertain how to react. This was so unlike Kay, who would have laughed unmercifully if one of them had broken down so completely. Neesa looked at Kay for a moment, then pushed herself up from the floor and went over to pat him on the shoulder. ‘Don’t be sad,’ she said.
After a moment Kay looked up at Rip, tears pouring down his face. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘I’m sorry. But I am so scared.’ He leaned over, putting his cheek against Neesa’s head, and continued to weep.
Neesa frowned, then put her hand up to the top of her head. ‘You’re getting my hair wet,’ she accused.
‘Sorry,’ Kay said and lifted his head. He got his crying under control.
‘We’re all scared,’ Rip assured him. ‘I don’t like saying it, but I am.’
‘But what are we going to do?’ Kay asked, tears threatening to break loose again. He pointed to the inner door. ‘There’s a dead woman behind there.’ Then he pointed to the outer door, ‘And there’s a ghost in the hall. We can’t get out of the window. What are we going to do?’
Mandy pushed the goblet at him before he could go off again. ‘Drink,’ she said with ferocious emphasis. Kay did so and it seemed to help.
Rip stared glumly at the opposite wall. It was decorated with a carving of a plant in an urn. It was very elaborate, with all kinds of curlicues, not very pretty, but well done. As he stared, it seemed to him that something was wrong with that wall. From the way it projected into the room there should be a closet in it, but there wasn’t. And now that he thought about it, the wall in the corridor was straight and smooth. So why was the wall on the inside bent like that? Can it be a secret passage like King Akter used to escape the wicked uncle? he thought.
Suddenly Neesa said, ‘Yes!’ She stood and walked right to where Rip was looking, and went to the wall as if hypnotized and began pressing every berry and flower centre, tracing every curve of every frond, looking for something that might press in.
He hadn’t been too sure just what a secret passage was or how it worked when Emmet had told him the story, but he hadn’t seen a real castle then. They were so big. Could he actually be looking at one right now?
‘What are you doing?’ Mandy asked.
Neesa pressed one last projection. It sank beneath her finger and something clicked. The wall swung open with a soft creak. Rip approached and stared at it breathlessly for a long moment then Kay and Mandy came to stand beside him.
‘Open it,’ Kay said, looking pale and dazed.
Rip did. The opening revealed a set of steps leading into pitch blackness.
‘Dark,’ Neesa said, taking hold of Mandy’s hand.
‘We’ll need candles,’ Mandy said, ever practical. ‘There’s some in that woman’s room…’
‘No!’ Kay said and grabbed her arm. ‘Don’t go in there!’
Rip silently agreed.
‘Well what are we supposed to do?’ she demanded. ‘I
f we take that one,’ she pointed to the night table, ‘they’ll know someone was here.’
‘They’ll know someone was here anyway,’ Rip said. ‘We drank most of the wine, remember?’
‘But if we take the candle they might guess we went this way.’ Mandy’s face had a stubborn look.
‘They won’t know!’ insisted Rip. ‘They’d have to find the passage like Neesa did.’ Then he looked at Neesa. ‘I was thinking about a passage, from a story my pa told me. How did you know?’
‘I didn’t,’ answered Neesa. ‘She told me.’ With a nod of her head she indicated the next room.
Rip couldn’t repress a shudder. ‘Look, they might think we were here, but they’ll think we left by the door.’ He marched over and unlocked it, suddenly certain that whatever had tried to follow them into the room was not there. He didn’t know why he knew, just that it felt right. ‘So, they’ll look all over the place, and even if they come back and find this passage, we’ll have been gone a long time,’ Rip explained.
He went to the night table, checked the bedside drawer and found two more candles and a striker. Handing one to Mandy, he stuffed the other into his shirt, then lit the one in her hand and took it from her. They were very good candles–wax, not tallow dips–Ma had three like them for special times. Then he put the striker in his shirt next to the other candle.
He and Mandy looked at one another for a long moment, then Mandy’s eyes flickered toward the corridor. She took a deep breath. ‘You go first,’ she said. ‘I’ll follow.’
Rip took a deep breath to steady himself and hoped it didn’t show. He was afraid of that dark hole between the walls too. But since they had no other way to go he supposed they might as well get it over with.
A timid knock on the door of Lyman Malachy’s laboratory brought his head up from his work table. A glance at the Baron who sat beside him was met with a frown.
‘Come in,’ Malachy said. He wiped his hands and stepped toward the door. The Baron rose from his chair and put aside his book.
A very nervous and greasy-looking mercenary opened the door and advanced a half pace into the room. His posture was absurdly deferential.
Legends of the Riftwar Page 90