Nicolas pushed against the door. It swung open on well-oiled hinges. For a moment he and Maggie stood in the doorway with the scene before them etched in their eyes like a painting.
A long table sat in the middle of the room, and a young man who was little more than a boy lay on it. He wore no shirt, and his bare skin was spattered with blood. His arms were linked with those of the handsome young university student, the eloquent leader from outside the castle, who stood behind him. The regal lady in blue sat on one side of the table, holding the boy’s hand tightly. Huss stood on the other side, with the dripping head of a spear in his hand. It had just been pulled from the boy’s side.
The walls were lined with men—farmers. In the farthest corner of the room stood the tall man, still hooded, his face in shadow. He held the black-shafted spear Maggie had seen him fighting with, but he had broken off the spear end and was leaning on the staff. His clothes were homespun and simple, but a large ruby glinted on one of his fingers.
The boy’s face was the colour of bone. His dark eyes stood out in his head, full of pain and fear. He had heard the door open, and Maggie and Nicolas watched as his eyes slowly moved to them and opened wider at the sight.
They were surrounded before they could move. Nicolas raised his hands in surrender. Maggie followed his example. Professor Huss turned to regard them, slowly, as unhurried as he had been in the courtyard. He drew himself up and searched both of their faces. Neither met his eyes.
“As no one has spoken for you, I assume that you are friend to no one in this room,” Huss said at last. “So you have come here either by accident, or by curiosity, or to seek out someone whom you have not found. Which is it?”
It was Maggie who answered, to Nicolas’s surprise. “Not any of those,” she said, half faltering. “We are friends to one in this room—to you.”
Huss’s eyebrows popped up. Maggie thought she saw a smile playing at his thin mouth. “Is that so?” he asked. “Well, then, friends…” He looked around as though he had forgotten where he was. “We will have to talk later.” His eyes came back to them. “At the moment my attention is otherwise occupied.”
He motioned to the men who stood all around Nicolas and Maggie. “Let them go,” he said. “But do not let them leave.”
The men stood back. Nicolas and Maggie pressed themselves against a wall. Attention diverted from them as thoroughly as if they had sunk into the stone itself. No one seemed to care who they were.
Huss produced a needle and thread from his robe and leaned over the boy. His back prevented Maggie from seeing the operation in detail, and she was glad for it. The woman who sat beside the boy still clung to his hand, but her face was pale and her mouth tight.
At last it was over, and Huss stood. His hands were bloody and he looked at them reflectively. “I don’t suppose anyone thought to bring a washbasin,” he said, then shook his head. “Of course not.”
He looked up and addressed the room. “He is too ill to go back to the country with you.”
“He must go back, tonight.” It was the hooded man who spoke. He moved out of the corner as he did so. “This city is not safe for him.”
“He will die on the road if you take him,” said Huss.
The hooded man spread out his hands to indicate his surroundings. “He can’t stay here. The cold and damp will kill him.”
“He will stay with me,” the woman said. She rose to her feet. Her eyes met those of the hooded man, and Nicolas saw something pass between them. The look sounded thunderous in his ears.
The university student said, “He can stay in the school, my lady. The risk is great if he is found in your house.”
“No greater than it is for us if he is found sheltered in the university,” Jarin Huss said, sharply. “What you have done—and not done—tonight may be enough to destroy us. It will not do to have a member of a rebel militia discovered. That is…” He looked up at the hooded man. “If there is a rebel militia.”
“I saw enough tonight,” the hooded man said. “The Overlord will not listen. I was right to train my people in the use of force. Yes, Professor. There is a militia.”
“Professor Huss is right,” the woman said. Her dress was spattered with blood and her hair was pulled back from a face that was weary but determined. She looked back to the hooded man. “He cannot stay in the school. He will come with me. When he is well I will send him to you.” Another look passed between them, a look with something gold and fiery in it. “You must not come here again until the echoes of tonight have stopped sounding.”
The words sounded strange in Nicolas’s ears. As he looked at the hooded man, his head filled with voices. Every sound in the room grew faint, as though he was moving far away, and other sounds took their place.
“It is the peace of death we break…”
“Rise up! Blackness no longer!”
He heard the sound of fire roaring and swords clashing; the sound of horses as though there was thunder in their hooves—horses as of giants. He heard the battle cries of men, rising from a thousand throats all at once.
The sounds faded. Nicolas was back in the stone room once more. Maggie seemed to have noticed that something was wrong. Her hand rested on Nicolas’s shoulder. He turned to look at her but quickly shied away from the question in her eyes.
The decision was made. There was nothing more to be said. The hooded man stood for a long minute at the table, looking down at the pale face of the boy. He touched the boy’s forehead and smiled sadly; looked up at the woman and drew a deep breath.
Then he turned and was gone. Everyone went with him except the professor, his student, the woman, and the boy. And Nicolas and Maggie.
“Jerome, take the boy to his refuge,” Huss commanded. Jerome, the student leader, looked at him questioningly. He motioned to the wall against which Nicolas and Maggie were huddled. Huss chuckled.
“I am not afraid to be left alone with them,” the professor said. “And you will be back soon to avenge me if I am wrong to be unafraid.”
Jerome nodded unhappily, but said nothing. He bent down and picked the boy up gently, cradling him in his arms. The woman put her hand on Huss’s shoulder.
“Thank you for everything,” she said, and she and Jerome left the room.
Huss turned to Nicolas and Maggie.
“Now we are alone,” he said, looking at them both in turn. “And you have something to say. Speak.”
* * *
Chapter 8
Revelations
Maggie reached into her coat and brought out the scroll. She held it out, mutely. Jarin Huss took it with a puzzled expression on his face.
He unrolled the scroll and stood for a long time, perusing its contents. Maggie saw a shadow pass over his face, followed by a strange elation. One thing was certain: the scroll was not an indecipherable puzzle to him. He knew what it meant.
After a long while, Huss looked up from the parchment and fixed his eyes on Maggie.
“And who are you, young woman?” he asked.
“My name is Maggie Sheffield,” Maggie said. “That is, I…” She closed her eyes. “I represent the Council for Exploration Into Worlds Unseen.”
“Oh?” Jarin Huss said, his expression conveying more surprise than he meant it to. “Well, this is a noteworthy meeting, isn’t it?” His forehead wrinkled in thought. “This is hardly the place for a noteworthy meeting. Do come with me, Maggie Sheffield. And…?”
“Nicolas Fisher.” Nicolas shifted his feet uncomfortably under Jarin Huss’s steady gaze.
Huss nodded as though the name meant something to him. “I see. You are also welcome to come with me, Nicolas Fisher. Now, let us go.”
Huss removed a torch from the wall and led the way back down the damp corridor. The room behind them fell into darkness as they left.
Jarin Huss said nothing as they walked, and neither Maggie nor Nicolas felt leave to begin a conversation. They followed until they had emerged from the ground into the strong light
of the moon. Huss took them through the courtyard to the high front door of the old house. He pulled a key from his robes and fit it into the lock, turning it loudly.
They stepped into a room which might once have been a grand entrance, but which was now grey and drab and falling to pieces. Wide doors led into other rooms, probably sitting rooms, but in the darkness Maggie could not see them well. Across from the door, a tall staircase led to the upper floor.
Huss did not bother to light any lamps, but held onto his torch. They climbed up the long staircase to a wide loft that overlooked the entrance. At the top of the stairs they were greeted by the grey-eyed stare of a cat perched on the banister. When they had all passed by, the cat silently dropped from its place and padded after them.
At the end of the hallway, Huss pushed open a door into a small room. He extinguished the torch and lit lamps all around the room, filling it with warm light. He finished by touching a match to an oil lamp that squatted on an oak desk covered with open books and papers. The room, Maggie thought, resembled the professor himself in its aged and scholarly warmth.
Bookshelves lined three walls, lending the rich colours of book bindings to the glow of the oil lamps. Against one wall, the cat had made itself comfortable on a small bed with high posts. At the foot of the bed a window looked down on the street, and the lights of the castle could be seen. Huss stared out the window for a moment and then drew heavy gold curtains across it. Maggie was glad that the castle and the disturbing scenes connected with it were shut out of the room.
Between the bed and the desk, an old table with charmingly curved legs sat, surrounded by four chairs. Huss pulled out one of them.
“Here, sit and be comfortable,” he said, taking his own advice. Maggie and Nicolas awkwardly obeyed. Maggie was trying very hard to think of what she was going to say. Nicolas seemed overawed by the room. Books and papers were foreign and intimidating to him. He found himself longing suddenly for Bear and the outdoors.
Huss took the scroll from his robes and laid it out on the table. Maggie looked down at the strange letters and shivered. There was something about the open scroll that felt wrong. It seemed an obscenity that ought to be kept hidden in the presence of decency. She felt stupid for thinking so, as the professor didn’t seem bothered. She raised her eyes to him as he spoke and tried to forget that the scroll was there.
“I was not aware that the Council for Exploration Into Worlds Unseen was an operative body again,” he said. “I am very surprised to hear it.”
Maggie looked away from his steady eyes and said, “It isn’t, sir. That is, there is no council in operation, but I do come from it… them.”
Huss smiled faintly.“Suppose you just tell me who sent you? That might be easier than trying to explain the existence or lack thereof of a council which has not been together in forty years.”
“I was sent by Daniel Seaton,” Maggie said. “In the interests of John and Mary Davies. And although Eva Cook didn’t want me to come, in a way I represent her more than the others.”
“I see,” Huss said, now clearly amused. “So you are the whole council unto yourself, are you?” He chuckled and tapped the scroll with a long finger. “And where did you get this?”
“From Old Dan—Daniel Seaton,” Maggie said. “He brought it to Mrs. Cook and me before he died. He said he had taken it from a woman called Evelyn.”
The effect of Maggie’s words on the professor was profound. He shot halfway to his feet, then sank back down, muttering something to himself. After a moment he returned to his surroundings and said, “Daniel is dead, then?”
“Yes,” Maggie said, sorry that she had not broken the news gently. “He said he had been to the Highlands of Bryllan to try and take the scroll to Lord Robert Sinclair, but he had not been able to get in to see him. On his way back to Midland, he fell sick. When he came to us he was dying.”
“And he sent you to me?” Huss said.
“He said you would want to see the scroll. He thought it was very important.”
Huss nodded. “What have you to do with Eva Cook?” he asked. “Who, I assume, is the Eva Brown I once knew.”
“I live with her,” Maggie said. “I am her foster child, one of two. She and her husband, who is now gone, took me from an orphanage when I was ten.”
Nicolas was looking at Maggie strangely, but she did not notice.
“And John and Mary?” Huss asked. “You are here in their interests as well?”
“They are also dead, sir,” Maggie said. She spoke the words carefully this time, aware that Huss did not expect to hear them. She saw the strain and sorrow on his face as she spoke, and was sorry for it. “They fostered me for three years, until I was thirteen, when they died in a fire. It was a tragic accident.”
“Was it?” Huss asked, his voice terse.
Maggie sought to meet Huss’s eyes, no longer awkward, reaching out to meet him in the pain he shared with her. For a moment they looked at each other with an understanding of mutual loss.
“I had hoped you could tell me,” Maggie said at last.
Instead of answering, Huss stood and walked to the window, his hands clasped behind his back. He stood and stared at the drawn curtains for a long time. Nicolas tried to catch Maggie’s eye, but she was watching the professor intently and did not spare a glance for him.
Jarin Huss turned and smiled wanly at Maggie. “I am quite sure they were murdered,” he said. “Just as I am quite sure Daniel was murdered. Just as I am quite sure that Mrs. Cook is not safe, and that I am not safe, and that you are most certainly not safe.”
“If she wanted safety she would’ve stayed at home,” Nicolas said, “instead of risking her life to get you that piece of paper. Now are you going to help her, or aren’t you?”
Huss raised an eyebrow, but there was no irony in the gesture—only comprehension. “They have come after you already, then,” he said.
“Who has?” Maggie asked. Huss did not answer, and Maggie stood in frustration. “Who has?” she asked again, leaning over the table toward him with her palms on the wood, fingertips nearly touching the scroll.
Huss bowed his head and looked suddenly very weary. “Them,” he said. “The Order. The scourge of mankind.” He sat back down at the table. His legs seemed to have lost the strength to hold him up. “You will be safe here for a few days at least. Goodness knows we can’t give it back to them.”
The door to the study opened with a bang. Maggie jumped up in alarm. She found herself facing Jerome.
“Oh,” she breathed, and sat back down, her heart racing.
“I frightened you,” Jerome said. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be,” Nicolas muttered. No one seemed to notice.
“This is Jerome,” Huss said, “my apprentice—the future leader of the Underground University of Pravik, which is of course a very deep secret—one you shall both be careful to keep. Jerome, this is Maggie Sheffield and Nicolas Fisher.”
Jerome nodded courteously to them and said to his master, “The boy is sleeping safely in Libuse’s home.”
“Thank you,” said Huss. He sounded exhausted.
“Is something wrong?” Jerome asked.
Huss smiled thinly. “Everything is wrong, Jerome, and everything is right. Our gain is our snare, as it always is.”
His words made no sense to Maggie or Nicolas, and they glanced at each other, a bemused smile on each face. It was the first time Maggie had looked at Nicolas since entering the room. He knew it acutely, though she hadn’t noticed.
Jerome noticed the scroll, and he came to stand by Maggie. “I assume this has something to do with it,” he said.
“You should never make assumptions,” Huss said. “But as it is, this time you are right.” He shook his head and muttered, “I fear it will draw them like a magnet.”
“Let them come, whoever they are,” Jerome said. “We will hold them at bay.”
Huss smiled and patted Jerome on the cheek as though he was a li
ttle boy. “You’re very brave,” Huss said. “As brave as you are ignorant. But perhaps bravery is better than cowardice, even if it is brought on by stupidity.”
“Will someone kindly tell us what is going on?” Nicolas asked. “Maggie brought that thing to you, and we both put our necks on the line to do it. We ought to know what’s happening.”
“Of course,” Huss said. “In the morning.”
“What?” Nicolas sputtered.
“In the morning,” Huss repeated. “I suppose we have one more night in which we may sleep safely. I will explain all that I can in the morning. I confess I wasn’t prepared for you. I want some time to think.”
Maggie thanked him, but Nicolas did not seem to have heard. He was staring at Jerome with his ears full of voices, and his face was dismayed.
They were ushered to two small rooms down the hall. Both rooms were dusty and cobwebbed, but the linens were clean and the beds, while old and a bit springy, were comfortable enough. Maggie fell asleep quickly. Nicolas lay in bed and thought about the woods, and about Bear, and the Gypsies, and things that he could hear and no one else could.
* * *
As she slept, Virginia saw the black-cloaked shadow that moved from car to car, peering into the compartments. She saw it, and she knew why it had come.
She opened her eyes and found that she could see, although a mist over her eyes made every form uncertain and blurred the mute colours of the train. The crystal dragons etched in the window glass stood out with strange clarity, glinting through the mist. She saw Mrs. Cook beside her, slumbering deeply. Across the compartment, Lord Robert and Pat were also sleeping.
It was best, she thought.
She stood and left the compartment. Her fingers lingered long on the door. Those inside would never willingly let her go, she knew that. Just as she knew that she had to leave, that she could not endanger these who had given so much for her. She felt a pang of guilt nonetheless, and sorrow at leaving them.
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