A bolt of brilliant lightning branched across the sky. Almost immediately a powerful thunderclap shook the house. With the thunder came rain, large drops that hissed into the flames. Then sheets, torrents, cascades poured from the skies, extinguishing the flames, drenching the torch throwers and their torches, plunging them into darkness, and squelching their cries.
Aunt Ellen lit her candle. “Good job, Trevor,” she shouted to make herself heard over the pounding rain. “We can go downstairs now.”
As they descended the stairs, Trevor saw that although the rain had driven away all their supporters, Jasper Ryles and Mistress Hanley remained inside, Ryles’s face thrust near Uncle Matt’s, Mistress Hanley’s fists raised, ready to strike. But something was wrong. No one moved; no one spoke. The three could have been wax figures in a museum tableau.
Aunt Ellen hurried toward them and took her husband’s arm. “You can release them, Matt. It’s safe. The others have run away like scared rabbits.”
“Very wet scared rabbits,” Les put in, laughing.
Uncle Matt drew in a deep breath and stepped backward, away from his two opponents. He looked toward the window as though noticing for the first time the rain that beat against the glass. With a smile he slipped his arm around his wife.
Jasper Ryles blinked. His rigid stance relaxed. He looked around in confusion.
Mistress Hanley’s fists unclenched. Her arms fell to her side. “Why, what time is it? I’ve got to be going. My sister Elsie will be worried sick about me. I’ve come to Sharpness to visit her, you know, and I only left her for a little while to pay my respects to you.”
Jasper Ryles stared at her, his mouth agape.
“It’s raining, dear.” Aunt Ellen pointed toward the window. “You’ll get soaked.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s only a summer shower. It’ll be over in a few minutes. A little rain won’t hurt me.”
Ryles gulped and seemed to find his voice. “That’s a flood out there, woman. We can’t go out in that.”
But Uncle Matt said, “If you insist on going, we have oilskins and rain boots in the hall closet. Ellen?”
Aunt Ellen hurried from the room and returned in a moment with rubber boots, yellow oilskins, and sou’westers. She held them out, and Mistress Hanley accepted a set and donned them with no hesitation.
Ryles balked. “I’m sure we ain’t got what we came here for,” he groused. “And even with rain gear, I don’t like going out in that storm.”
“Why, we’ve had a lovely visit,” Mistress Hanley said. “And I’ve thanked Trevor for so graciously ceding to Maribeth the grant for the university.” She bestowed a warm smile on Trevor.
Stunned, he tried to summon words of protest. Aunt Ellen squeezed his arm in warning. He bit his tongue and kept silent.
Muttering under his breath, Jasper Ryles put on the boots and oilskins, jammed the sou’wester on his head, and followed Mistress Hanley to the door.
Like a gracious host, Uncle Matt hurried to pull the door open, and held it that way with some effort. Aunt Ellen waved a friendly farewell, and the two former conspirators struggled out into the storm.
Uncle Matt let the wind slam the door shut, and Les and Trevor hurried to the window to watch the two until they disappeared into the sodden darkness.
Trevor turned to Uncle Matt. “What did you do to them? And why did she say I ceded the grant to Maribeth? Do I have to do that?”
“One answer at a time, son.” Uncle Matt said. “All I could do to Ryles was give him a mild amnesia. He’s a normal, so his mind’s closed to any thought adjustment. But Mistress Hanley, now, she’s another matter. She’s gifted.”
“Mistress Hanley, gifted?” Trevor couldn’t believe it.
“Not highly, I don’t reckon, but there’s no doubt she has a gift, though I suspect she keeps it hidden from everybody. But I made use of it. While I held ’em both in stasis, I went into her mind and adjusted her memories a tad. Did some reading, too. Sit down, boys. We need to talk seriously about this.”
Uncle Matt sank wearily onto the couch, and Aunt Ellen sat beside him.
Trevor sank reluctantly into the wing chair, while Les perched on the edge of the seat of a rocker.
“Mistress Hanley’s set on her Maribeth goin’ to university,” Uncle Matt continued. “Couldn’t change that strong an obsession. No matter what I did, she’d remember that and keep on making trouble. Matter o’ fact, she’s sworn to have you killed if that’s what it takes. Don’t know that she’d really do it, but can you afford to take the chance? That’s why I had to let her think you told her Maribeth could have the grant.”
“She can’t hurt me,” Trevor scoffed. “I won’t let her.”
“She might not be able to hurt you, but you could hurt her—and maybe a lot of others, too.”
“I wouldn’t … What do you mean?”
“It’s not a thing I wanted to have to tell,” Uncle Matt murmured, looking down at his worn work shoes.
“He needs to know,” Aunt Ellen said softly, patting Uncle Matt’s hand. Trevor was shocked by how old and tired his uncle suddenly looked.
Uncle Matt nodded. “I was younger than you are now,” he began slowly, as though the words were being pulled from him against his will. “Like you, I had power but wasn’t trained in its use. My sister Oma was your father’s twin; they were three years older than me.”
Twin! Trevor hadn’t known that.
“I was always full of mischief—loved to play tricks on people. Oma had gone to a quiltin’ bee at Mary Elster’s place. Lucinda Ryles was there, and so was Lorna Carroll, along with some other women.”
Trevor recognized those names—the names carved on the base of the stone pillar in the cemetery. He leaned forward, not wanting to miss a word. Uncle Matt was talking very softly, as if to himself.
“My pa told me to take a lantern and go meet Oma and walk home with her. He didn’t like the idea of her walking home by herself on a dark night. Marlon—your father—would have gone, but he was out in the barn with a colicky horse.”
He paused, wiped his brow, and went on. “I thought it would be great fun to play a practical joke on Oma and the others. I’d just recently learned that my power let me use firelight to create illusions. The lantern fire was enough to make what I thought would be a marvelous illusion.
“I knocked on Mary Elster’s door, and when it opened, I filled the doorway with the illusion of a huge bear, all aglow, its claws extended and its mouth open in a mean snarl.
“Oh, it was effective, all right. Oma’d been expecting me to come for her, so it was her that opened the door, with Mary Elster standing right behind her with a lighted lantern. Oma let out a horrific scream and jumped back, right into Mary. Mary dropped the lantern, and it broke, spilling oil and fire on her long skirt. Oma was too scared to realize what was happening and pushed against her, still trying to get away from the bear, and she caught fire, too, and Lucinda Ryles and Lorna Carroll, who’d been right behind Mary and Oma, they tried to put out the fire, but it caught them, too.” Uncle Matt was speaking rapidly now, trying to get the story out and done with.
“By the time I dispelled the illusion and saw what was happening, it was too late. The whole place was on fire. The other women ran out the back way while the house burned, but Lucinda and Lorna and Mary and Oma, they all burned to death. And it was my fault. I tried, but I couldn’t save ’em. They died, and it was my fault.”
His voice had subsided to a whisper; his head hung down so that his chin rested on his chest.
“It was an accident, Matt,” Aunt Ellen said.
“Doesn’t matter, Ellen,” Uncle Matt muttered. “I was careless and cocky. I should’ve known not to use power that way.”
“You hadn’t had any training.”
He shrugged. “Anyway,” he went on, “a couple of the women that survived had seen the bear and knew it wasn’t a normal animal, that it had a look of magic about it. They told my pa, and he figgered it was s
omething I’d done. When he confronted me, I confessed. Marlon wanted to kill me, and so did Jasper Ryles when the word got out. My pa decided to get me as far away as possible to keep me safe, and I suppose because he was furious with me, too, and didn’t want me near him. He sent me to Port-of-Lords, where there was a very strong Community of the Gifted. They trained me in the proper use of power. I learned to use gifts I hadn’t known I had, but I never again used the gift of creating illusions.”
“How did Grandpa Blake know about the Community?” Trevor asked. “Was he gifted, too?”
“No,” Uncle Matt said slowly. “He just knew of some Gifted people who’d gone to Port-of-Lords from Carey with the intention of finding and training Gifted. Sure enough, I found a Community of Gifted there who were looking for people to train. Ellen was a member there. That’s where we met and married. I was homesick, so once I’d completed my training and knew I could use my power safely, Ellen and I came back here. I wasn’t welcome in Amesley, so we settled here in Sharpness, and here we’ve been ever since.”
“Are you sure the Community’s still there?” Trevor asked.
“Yes, I have a friend I got to know back then, who’s still in Port-of-Lords and belongs to the Community. We correspond occasionally and he tells me what’s happening with it. It’s grown considerably since Ellen and I were there.”
He gazed directly at Trevor. “Now you understand why your father was so against you using power. He and I came to terms with each other, enough to let you come visit Ellen and me that time, but he never really forgave me. And now it’s all stirred up again.”
“Gosh, I’m sorry, Uncle Matt,” Trevor said. “I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t. Point is, you’ve gotta be careful how you use power. Your father thought he could keep you from using it at all, but it’s too much a part of you to suppress all the time. You have to learn to use it responsibly.”
Trevor sat up straight. “Say, maybe I could go to Port-of-Lords and get trained by the Community there like you did.”
“But you can’t give up the university!” Les protested. “It’s your only chance to go!”
“I really did earn that scholarship,” Trevor said. “I deserve it more than Maribeth Hanley.”
“Well, it has to be your decision,” Uncle Matt said. “But think about this. Some of the people outside with the torches were Sharpness people—neighbors, folks I’ve known for years. I could tell they were embarrassed about being here. That’s why they were content to stay outside and let Ryles and Mistress Hanley do the talking. But Ryles did get them stirred up, and they would have burned the house down if Ellen hadn’t called the rain.”
“Trevor helped,” Aunt Ellen put in. “I couldn’t have brought such a storm by myself.”
Uncle Matt squeezed her hand. “Yes, well, my point is, don’t y’ see, that the rain put out their anger along with their torches. If nothing stirs ’em up again, they’ll let the matter drop. But Ryles won’t. If he gets his memory back, he’s likely to do anything, especially with Mistress Hanley egging him on, which she will if Trevor doesn’t cede the grant to Maribeth.”
“I guess you’re right,” Trevor said. “I hate not going to Tirbat. But if I could get trained in the use of power, it would be almost as good as going to the university. And going to Port-of-Lords would be exciting.” He stopped, thought, and slumped back in the chair. “Except,” he said, “that’s way out on the west coast. I couldn’t even afford the trip, much less find a way to live after I got there. I can only go to Tirbat because of the grant.”
Uncle Matt stroked his sideburns. “You do need training, Trevor,” he said thoughtfully. “There is a way you could go. Ellen and me, we’ve put a good bit away through the years. More than enough for our old age. We could give you enough to get there and live on for a while, till you get established.”
“I couldn’t take the savings you’ve worked so hard for,” Trevor said, shaking his head.
“Of course you could,” Aunt Ellen said. “We have no children, no one to leave our money to. It’d make us proud to give you some of what we’ve saved, knowing how you’d benefit from the training. For you it would be better than any university degree.”
“But go all that distance alone, with no assurance that it would work out?” Trevor couldn’t help his skepticism.
“I could give you a letter of introduction to my old friend Doss Hamlyn,” Uncle Matt said. “I understand he’s done right well for himself in the shipping business. I’m sure he’d get you into the Community. Matter of fact, I know of another member of that Community who’s supposed to be skilled at training young talents, a man by the name of Dr. Berne Tenney. He wasn’t there when I was, so I don’t know him personally, but the skilled trainers that were there then would be too old now, if they’re still alive. The information I have on Tenney isn’t recent, but I think it’s likely he’s still active in the Community. I could give you a letter for him, too, asking him to undertake your training.”
“Training,” Les repeated slowly. “Training … I wonder. If I really am gifted, maybe they could find my gift and train me, too.”
“I suppose they could, Les, but—”
“Oh, I’m not asking you to pay my way, Uncle Matt,” Les interrupted. “I’ve saved some of what Dad’s paid me these past three years for helping out on the farm. It was to set me up on my own, when I married, you know. But I haven’t met a girl I want to marry, and I’m not ready to settle down. Dad can spare me—he’s got plenty of hired help. If Trevor goes, I’d like to go with him. If you could include me in those letters you were talking about.”
Trevor grinned. “That would be great, Les. What an adventure we’d have.”
“Well, it’s not for adventure you’d be going,” Aunt Ellen said, frowning. “It’s a big step, not one to be taken lightly.”
“Oh, we’d take it seriously, I promise,” Trevor said. “But are you sure you can spare the money? I don’t have any set aside like Les.”
“I wouldn’t make the offer if we couldn’t spare it,” his uncle said. “We can help you both. And nothing could make us happier than seeing you both trained to use your gifts for good. You could change the way this area views the gifted—undo the impression left by what I did.”
Trevor gazed at his aunt and uncle, recognized their sincerity, their deep desire for him to accept their offer. He turned to Les. “It won’t be the university, but I never did like the idea of going off to Tirbat without you,” he said. “So Port-of-Lords it is, then—for both of us.”
CHAPTER FOUR
A PORT-OF-LORDS WELCOME
The train clacked along, passing into territory new to them both. Les was excited, but Trevor seemed distracted and glum. Probably the disappointment of missing out on attending the national university was setting in. Not to mention his parents’ disappointment when he’d told them of his decision to go to Port-of-Lords instead. They’d only yielded to his determination to go when he’d told them he knew the story of his Aunt Oma’s death, and he needed training to be certain he would never be guilty of such a thing.
Les hadn’t had as much difficulty persuading his father and stepmother. “I got the same itch to travel when I was your age,” his dad had told him. “That’s how I met your mother.”
So Trevor and Les had returned to Sharpness to complete the final arrangements, and now here they were, country boys en route to Port-of-Lords, the largest city in western Arucadi. Les’s excitement was only dampened by Trevor’s apparent sadness. He decided that a distraction was in order.
He nudged Trevor. “Hey, Trev, you up for a game?" Let’s see who can spot the most new things—stuff we’ve never seen before. A point for every new thing; two or three if it’s something really spectacular. What do you say?”
“I guess.” Trevor shrugged, showing little enthusiasm. But then the train rumbled over a high trestle bridge crossing the Plains River, and Trevor, in the window seat, pointed and shouted, “Hah!
I win the first points. Look there! A paddlewheel riverboat and a tug pulling a line of coal barges. That should be worth three or four points.”
“Two. Don’t get greedy.”
Trevor’s mood lifted after that, and the game became a lively contest, to the amusement of the more seasoned travelers.
In the river port of Mercanton they both gained points rapidly as they saw their first buildings taller than six stories, their first fancy motorcars, bread and rolls being delivered by a truck instead of a horse-drawn wagon, electric streetlights, and a trolley with overhead wires.
Beyond Mercanton they passed through towns and villages like their own, but these gradually gave way to empty prairie, so featureless that the view grew monotonous and they slept.
When they awoke, they were lurching and swaying through mountains. Not gentle, mounded hills like those around Wickton but immense upthrust masses of stone terrifying in their grandeur. They resumed their game for the distraction it afforded from the threat of harrowing switchbacks and deep chasms and swift rivers with foam-wreathed rapids.
On a steep ascent the train squealed to a bone-jolting stop, everyone piled out, and the men were put to work clearing a rockslide off the tracks. Les and Trevor worked with the others, pushing and shoving to topple boulders over the embankment, hurling the smaller stones onto the tops of the trees below, and sweeping the tracks clear of dirt and pebbles so that the train could resume its journey.
Back on the train, Trevor again seemed lost in thought. He sat by the window but did not look out as the train completed its upward toil and began a slow but steady descent.
Les leaned across Trevor and nudged him with his elbow. “Look!” He pointed at a herd of wild horses that bolted and scattered at the train’s approach. “They’re worth five points at least.”
Trevor shrugged. “Okay. I’m still ahead.”
A Perilous Power (Arucadi Series Book 5) Page 3