Her steps were leading her closer and closer to the stairs that led up to the short round building between the towers. It looked like a temple, and temples were places of worship; the ones in Myrefall were always open for those who wanted to pray. Maybe this one was, too.
She examined a few more statues before nonchalantly making her way up the few short steps. Now that she was close to it, she noticed there was a kind of vibration emanating from the door. A feeling of comfort and knowing. Arabel found herself becoming calmer, and her shivering stopped.
The door was solid oak and bound with iron in a spiraling design. She grasped the door handle but, surprised by a sudden surge of heat, jerked her hand away. She waited a moment, then tried again. It was warm, but not hot. She tried to turn it, and realized it slid along a track. The front of the door was a maze, and she guided the knob along, turning it this way and that through the design, just idly, with no clear plan or thought in mind. She thought she could feel an answering hum within the door, some pulsing presence and warmth. She hardly noticed the rain anymore.
The door gave a faint click and the lines of the maze glowed. She pushed the handle lightly, and the door swung open. Excellent. She wasn’t going to have to sleep in the rain.
Glancing over her shoulder, she stepped inside.
It definitely looked like a temple, or something close to it. She stood in a stone antechamber, about six feet wide and ten feet high. Light glinted through an arched gateway at the far end and she crept quietly down the hall, peering through it. The room beyond was circular, at least thirty feet across, and domed. The walls were lined with shelves, and on the shelves were glowing glass sculptures, not unlike the ends of the soul blades. They were all different colors and some pulsed softly, filling the room with a gentle, multicolored light that shifted slowly. There must have been thousands of these glass objects; the rows stretched all the way to the top, where a circular glass window looked up into the dark night sky.
At the far end of the room was an ancient stone gateway. It looked crude, rough, out of place here in this room of delicate glasswork. Something about that gateway unsettled her. She couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary when she looked through it, except maybe a slight shimmer, like looking through the air rising from a hot roof.
She didn’t have long to look, though, because the room wasn’t empty. She ducked down, edging behind a pillar, watching the group of about ten people standing in the center of the room, directly under the circular skylight. They hadn’t noticed her come in, and stood huddled around something Arabel couldn’t quite see.
“It’s starting to wear off, Oswald,” someone said, and with a jolt Arabel recognized David, his face drawn and worried.
“Indeed.” Archguard Pembroke lifted a dark glass orb from the floor and moved closer to whatever they were looking at.
Silently, Arabel moved two steps to the right, ducking behind a pillar so that she could see between him and David. She tried not to breathe. Her left boot squished wetly, and Arabel froze. No one moved.
Now she could see what they were looking at. In the middle of the group was a stone table, and laid out on it, his wrists and ankles still shackled, now bolted to the table, was the man from the carriage. Alistair. He looked younger from this angle, his face thin and white, his long dark hair tangled and matted. Deep circles showed beneath his sunken eyes. He moaned and began to thrash, pulling so hard against his restraints Arabel thought he might break his wrists. His eyes snapped open, and Arabel bit back a gasp; they flashed redly in the dark, but when they fell on the men and women grouped around him, the color receded. The man relaxed suddenly and began to cry.
“Alistair,” Oswald said gently, moving closer, handing the orb to David, who held it out over the man’s chest. “It’s going to be all right, son.”
Alistair continued to cry, his eyes closed, tears leaking out the corners and running down his cheeks into his hair. Oswald adjusted his glasses and held a hand out over the man’s forehead. Suddenly Alistair lunged, his eyes and mouth open in a grimace of rage. He bit down on Oswald’s hand, giving an unholy shriek as he did so.
Arabel flinched, grabbing her own hand, and expected Oswald, or someone else, to hit Alistair, or wrestle him back down, but no one moved. Oswald murmured something Arabel couldn’t hear. Alistair bit down harder, and Oswald grimaced, but reached up and patted the man’s head gently with his free hand. Alistair began to convulse, and Oswald continued to murmur and pat the man’s head. The eyes opened and closed, red light flashing out from between the eyelids.
David’s jaw clenched, his eyes wide, staring from Oswald to the orb, his arms shaking. A light flared in the depths of the glass.
“Excellent, there we are. Easy does it now,” Oswald muttered, smiling. Alistair bit down even harder and Oswald’s smile dampened slightly, but he continued patting his forehead, where sweat was now beading up and running down his face.
Alistair released Oswald’s hand and shrieked. Arabel could see the red marks of each individual tooth where he’d broken the skin in some places. Oswald sighed in relief, but Alistair jerked back and then attempted to headbutt him. Oswald dodged nimbly out of the way, and the restraints jerked Alistair back.
The orb now glowed white hot and the color shifted to a bright, cold blue. Alistair collapsed back onto the stone table, and David looked at Oswald, who nodded. David stepped back, cradling the glowing object, its blue light illuminating the watching faces. Arabel saw Naomi, her face hard and sad, standing on Alistair’s other side. The woman’s eyes flicked up and met Arabel’s. Her jaw dropped open and her expression changed to one of rage.
“What are you doing here?”
Her words echoed in the chamber and the small group, David holding the glowing orb, turned to stare at her. Oswald looked mildly surprised; David narrowly avoided dropping the object. First one and then another guardian disappeared, winking out of existence and reappearing a few feet closer. She saw them in flashes, brief glimpses of them running for her before they disappeared again. She barely had an instant to shake her head, blinking, wondering if there was something wrong with her vision when someone grabbed her by the arms roughly, and another appeared behind her, searching her pockets.
“What are you doing here?” Naomi demanded again.
“I was just looking around,” Arabel said, as the others crowded around. “Sorry. I didn’t know we weren’t supposed to—”
Naomi pushed through the crowd, inches from her face.
“How did you get in here?”
Arabel glanced at the door. “Through there.”
“How did you get through the wards?”
Arabel stammered. “I—I just played with the knob and it opened.”
There were a few gasps and mutters around her, but Naomi only glared at her.
“Don’t treat us like we’re idiots, Fossey.” Her expression changed suddenly. “Your mother told you how, didn’t she?”
“What? My—”
“That’s the only way you could have gotten through that door. The wards are too powerful.”
“Maybe you left it open,” Arabel shot back.
“It doesn’t work—"
Oswald stepped lightly around Naomi and gave Arabel a piercing look. “Just a moment, please, Naomi. Let’s hear the girl speak. Now. What are you doing out of bed, and, more specifically, what are you doing here, please?”
Arabel swallowed and looked around at the angry faces of guardians she had never met. “I—I was hungry.”
Oswald nodded peaceably. “All right. And then? How did you come to be here?”
She explained about how she had wanted to step outside for a moment, then how she had found the door locked.
“I see… so you then decided to break into our most secure of sanctuaries? Without so much as a set of lockpicks?”
“No...” Arabel shivered. She was soaked, and freezing, but somehow also sweating. “I just tried to open the door. I played with the handle a
little, and it opened.”
The guardians were looking at one another in disbelief. Naomi’s lip curled. “That is an obvious lie, Archguard. The much simpler explanation is that her mother told her some trick. Some trick she never told us. I told you we shouldn’t have—”
“That is enough,” Oswald said sharply. “That does indeed seem to be the most obvious explanation. The question is, why would she have wanted in?”
“What?” Arabel said. “No. I have no idea how I opened the door. I have no idea what this room is; I just wanted to get out of the rain.” Well, and she’d wanted to explore, but she might as well leave that part out. “I don’t remember anything about my mother. She was here?” Her words sounded like lies, even to herself, even when she knew they were the truth. How had she opened that door?
“We can’t trust her,” Naomi said. “We should never have agreed to take in a Fossey.”
“Look,” she said. “I really don’t remember anything about my mother.” She met Oswald’s eyes seriously. “I just came here to get out of my father’s castle. I don’t know why he sent me here.” She glanced at Naomi. “He probably does have some sort of plan, but if he does, he hasn’t told me, and I want no part of it.”
Naomi rolled her eyes and snorted, but Oswald smiled kindly. “Yes, well, I think we can all understand wanting to be out from under the thumb of Cecil Fossey.” He patted her on the shoulder with his non-bleeding hand. “We shall have to investigate how you managed to break in here. A talented student indeed. In the meantime, I believe we shall padlock it, and perhaps, er, booby-trap it, shall we say? So please stay out.”
Arabel nodded. “Sure, fine.”
“And, yes, your mother was here. In fact, she built that door.” A chill went through Arabel’s fingers.
“She was a guardian?”
“No. She was here only briefly. A long time ago.” He looked more closely at her. “You look just like her. But I’m sure you hear that all the time.” Arabel swallowed. She had never heard that. Oswald looked down and noticed his hand was dripping blood onto the tiled floor. “Well, that’s enough excitement for one night, I believe. If I have David escort you to your room, will you remain there?”
Arabel nodded. She could feel Naomi’s eyes on her, the suspicion practically burning holes in her.
“Excellent. Take some scones with you.” He clapped her on the back again and swept off.
David was staring at her warily. “Come on, then,” he said.
She followed him in silence out the door and across the courtyard, through the dining room and up the staircase. He didn’t look at her until they were standing outside the door to her room.
“How did you do it?” he asked finally.
“I really don’t know.”
He stared at her a long time, as if he was trying to read whether she was lying.
“This place means a lot to me. And to a lot of people.”
She swallowed. “I know.”
He nodded, and then waited until she had gone into her room and closed the door before he left.
7
“Hey, Arabel?” A gentle hand tapped Arabel’s shoulder. She blinked against the bright light streaming through the window. That wasn’t… oh, right. The castle. She focused on the slim, freckled face in front of her and rubbed the back of her hand against her eyes.
“Morning, Avery.”
Avery straightened and pulled her hand back. Her brown hair was neatly brushed and plaited. She wore the same green dress over a fresh white tunic.
“I’m heading down to breakfast, want to come?”
Arabel yawned. “Oh, sure, thanks.” She pushed back the bedcovers and hopped out of bed. Avery’s eyebrows lifted, but she didn’t say anything. Arabel glanced down at her clothes. They were clean, at least; she’d put on a fresh set of breeches and a clean loose shirt last night before going to bed. The wet clothes from the night before hung over the back of her chair, a small puddle of dirty water on the floor beneath them. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair a few times before tying it back with a leather tie.
“Let’s go.”
They emerged from the staircase into a cacophony. A table along the wall was piled high with plates of eggs and bacon. A stack of dark loaves of rye bread dominated the middle of the table, a wheel of white cheese studded with herbs next to it. The benches around the supporting columns were filled with guardians, hunched over eating, swigging coffee, talking and shouting at one another.
A woman with warm red cheeks waved to them from behind the food table.
“Over here, you two.” She smiled and pointed to a stack of dishes at one end. “Help yourself to plates, then sit anywhere.”
“Thank you,” Avery said, approaching and taking a plate. She held out a hand to the woman. “I’m Avery.”
“Moira.” She pumped her hand heartily. “And you must be Arabel,” she said, turning and taking Arabel’s hand.
“Er, yes,” Arabel said. Moira’s grip was sure and strong, warm and calloused. How did she know who I am? “You look just like your mother.” Moira clucked her tongue.
Arabel tensed, her hand pausing in its swing.
“Oh, I’m sorry dear.”
“No, no it’s fine.” Arabel released her hand and took a plate.
Moira readjusted her apron strings, looking down for a moment, then turned to the table. “We’ve got bread, and plenty of eggs from our chickens. The rye we get from the Norbury market, but most everything else we grow here. Help yourself to whatever you’d like.”
“Thank you,” Avery said. “Nice to meet you.”
Moira nodded. “And you.” Someone called to her from the other end of the table and she moved off.
Arabel took a few slices of bread, some cheese, a few eggs, and a large mug of coffee, and followed Avery as she wound through the circular tables to where Charlotte and Ferne were sitting.
As they moved through the crowd, Arabel caught more than one surreptitious glance. One woman nudged her companion and inclined her head in Arabel’s direction. She thought she heard someone mutter the word ‘vault’. She must be imagining it. She shook her head and dropped into a seat beside Avery.
“Why is everyone staring at you?” Ferne asked, taking an enormous bite of oatmeal.
“They’re not staring at me,” Arabel said.
Charlotte stabbed a fried egg onto the end of her fork, salted it liberally, and shoved the whole thing into her mouth. She smiled widely, her eyes closing as she chewed. She washed it down with a swig of coffee. “No, they’re definitely staring at you.”
Arabel sighed. “I got caught walking around the plaza last night.”
“Why were you walking around the plaza? In the rain? Wasn’t it cold?” Ferne asked.
Arabel took a bite of toast and chewed. She moved a shoulder noncommittally. “I couldn’t sleep. I just wanted to walk around. Then I got locked out. The doors are locked at night, by the way.”
“Oh yeah,” Avery said. “Naomi mentioned that.”
“Well, that would have been nice to know,” Arabel muttered.
“You didn’t hear?” Avery asked. “She said it right as we came in last night.”
Arabel looked at the twins.
“Sorry, she’s right,” Charlotte said. “She did say that.”
Arabel hadn’t thought she was that bad at listening. But really, who could blame her? It was late and they were in a thousand-year-old magical castle. She was slightly distracted.
“All right, aspirants.” The loud voice cut through her thoughts and Naomi appeared, looming over them. Where was David? She’d much rather see him. “The first thing you need to know is that everybody here works. Yes, we have a cook, but other than that we do everything.” She began handing out bits of parchment. “On this list you’ll find your chores. If you don’t know how to do them, ask someone. Everyone here has done all of these at one point or another, so anyone can tell you what to do. Don’t expect me to hand these out eve
ry week. From now on you’ll find your name up there.” She pointed to a large slate hanging on the wall with lists of chores and names written in chalk. “Also, don’t expect me to baby you through these. You do these on your own time, and you do them the day they’re assigned, or you get double the next day. That’s how it works. Got it?”
They nodded; only Charlotte looked unruffled by this speech. She calmly salted another fried egg and shoved the whole thing into her mouth. It was a weird way to eat eggs, Arabel thought, and it was the first thing that made her rethink her original impression that Charlotte might not be cut out to be a guardian.
Naomi, briefly distracted by Charlotte’s performance with the egg, recovered herself and plowed on. “Now. I’ve got you from lunch until dinner every day for training. You don’t miss a day. You don’t arrive late. No excuses. Anyone who doesn’t work doesn’t deserve to be here. Got it?”
They nodded again.
“Good. Get your chores done now. Trust me, you won’t want to do anything after I’m done with you.” She turned to go, then stopped. “Oh. And you’ll all have personal meetings with the archguard. Arabel, you’re first. Meet me in the plaza in ten minutes.”
Naomi stalked off and the others turned to stare at Arabel. She felt her face get hot, which immediately made her annoyed, and she took a long swig of coffee to distract herself, partially choking on it. Spluttering, she took another huge bite of toast. Nonchalantly. She didn’t care what people thought of her.
“Are you excited?” Ferne asked.
“No,” she said around a mouthful of coffee-soaked toast. No one looked like they believed her. “Yes. I don’t know.”
“Good luck!” Avery said.
David appeared over Ferne’s shoulder, holding his own steaming mug of coffee. Arabel noticed he seemed to be avoiding looking at her. “Hey; I’ve got the morning off.” He glanced at Avery. “If any of you have any questions about your chores, I’m happy to help.”
The Eidolons of Myrefall Page 5
