“It said to enter,” I told him nervously.
“W-well, then y-you b-best do what it s-says, eh?”
“Are you coming?” I demanded.
He puffed out his chest and said in a strident voice, “I think I’ll keep watch out here, dearie, dearie. Don’t want nothing sneakin’ up on you, does old Seamus.” He gave a crisp little salute.
“Prat,” I muttered under my breath, and then I let out a long, resigned sigh. Of all the hobs I could run into, I had to run into this one.
I stepped forward into the cottage, Harry Two right next to me. As soon as we had done so, the door swung closed and I heard a lock click into place. I grabbed at the door handle and tried to open it. But even though I had Destin around my waist and my strength was greatly enhanced, the door wouldn’t budge.
I turned back around. “Hello?” I said, first in a low voice that could barely be heard even by me. Then I said more loudly, “Hello!”
Nothing.
I looked around. The furniture I saw — a table, a chair and a cupboard — was all small and low to the floor, which was wooden and looked about a thousand sessions old. There was a large clock on the wall whose hands never stopped moving. They whirled around and around the face of the clock. I drew closer and saw that the hands were actually two black snakes inexplicably hardened. Then, when I saw that the face of the clock was actually the flattened countenance of a garm, I leapt back and nearly upset the table, on which was a plate, a cup and utensils all made from tin.
Maybe the female here was actually evil. Maybe Seamus had tricked me. I promised myself if I got out of this cottage alive, I would strangle him.
Gathering my nerves, I said sharply, “Oi, is anyone about in this ruddy place?”
I nearly jumped to the ceiling when it, or she — I wasn’t exactly sure what — appeared directly in front of me.
Harry Two barked once and then went silent. I grabbed my chest to try and push my heart back into its proper place. “Holy Steeples,” I panted, bent over, all my breath suddenly gone. “Where the blazes did you come from?” I wheezed.
She — now I was sure it was a she — looked back at me. She was small, barely taller than Seamus, which put her at right about my belly button. She was young, maybe twenty sessions, and her black hair hung limply around her shoulders. Her face was oval and her nose, eyes and mouth all small and finely drawn. Her expression was one of mild curiosity mixed with indifference, which struck me as quite odd. I mean, how many Wugs did she have turn up in her digs with a canine in tow? She wore an emerald-colored shawl over a long black cloak.
She kept staring at me with that same curious yet ambivalent expression.
“I’m Vega,” I said. “This is my canine, Harry Two.”
She looked first at me, then at Harry Two, and then her gaze returned to me.
“I am Astrea Prine,” she said, in the same voice that had told me to enter.
“Seamus the hob told me about you and your cottage. I need you to help me find my friend, Delph.”
“Delph?” she said questioningly.
“His full name is Daniel Delphia but everyone calls him Delph. He’s out in this storm. There was this dark cloud and it covered us and he was gone and …”
“Why did you venture here?” she said sharply.
“I don’t have time to explain. Delph is out in the storm and I’m worried about him. I don’t want anything to happen to him.”
She suddenly turned and left the room, this time using her feet.
We hurriedly followed her into the next room, which was far larger than the first and, indeed, appeared much bigger than the entire cottage had looked from the outside. In the very center of the room was a round table.
Astrea strode over to it with quick, short steps and then stopped. We followed. On the table were two identically sized pewter cups. And in each cup sprouted an emerald flame.
“What’s that for?” I asked curiously.
She pointed to the cup on the left. “The Quag,” she said, and then she took from her pocket what looked like sand and threw it on the flames. They instantly shot much higher. Then she tipped the cup over and the flaming liquid spread across the tabletop.
“Look out!” I exclaimed, reaching out to smother the fire with my cloak.
A moment later, it was as though I had run into an invisible wall. I was frozen, my outstretched hands inches from the molten liquid.
“There is no need, Vega,” she said, pointing to the tabletop.
The flames had vanished and the water had spread to engulf the tabletop, with the exception of the other cup, which the water did not touch.
“This is a Seer-See,” she said. “A prophetical eye.”
Confused, I looked down at the tabletop and my breath seized in my lungs.
It was as though a picture, a moving picture, had formed on the table. I scanned it frantically for Delph.
“Amarocs,” I said sharply. There was a herd of them in full gallop. They jumped and leapt and galloped and swerved around obstacles with a grace I could barely imagine. They would be beautiful to look at if they weren’t so murderous.
“Can you see what they’re after?” I was terrified that the something was Delph.
She waved her hand once more and the image leapt ahead of the amarocs. It was a herd of deer. But they were all as white as snow. They were fast, but the amarocs seemed to be gaining.
“The amarocs are swifter than the deer,” I said worriedly.
She nodded. “But as you can see, ’tis no matter.”
I glanced back at the Seer-See and gasped. The deer were no longer there. In their place were little bits of light that flew into the air and then disappeared, leaving the amarocs rushing around in all directions and roaring in fury.
“What happened to the deer?” I said.
“They were not deer.”
“Then what were they?”
“Fairies having a bit of fun at the expense of the amarocs. And more’s the better, I say. Bloody troglodytes.”
“Can you see Delph on this thing?” I said impatiently, my insides frozen with thoughts of what might have happened to him.
She waved her hand over the tabletop once more.
I caught a breath when I saw him, but then let it out slowly and with relief.
Delph was fast asleep in the huge crook of a towering tree whose canopy was so thick that not one drop of rain could penetrate it. I could see that he had used a bit of rope to secure his perch. That way he could not turn in his sleep and tumble down.
“Is he safe?” I asked worriedly.
In answer, she reached in her cloak pocket and drew something out. She lifted up her hand and let the things she’d drawn out fall onto the tabletop. They looked like grains of rice. They hit the water without making a splash. But I could see the ripples caused by the tiny collision of rice and water. These ripples carried over Delph and formed a circle around him. And then they hardened, becoming still and fixed in the water. It was like he was now in a cage.
“He is free from harm now.” She turned once more. “Please come with me, Vega Jane.”
As I followed her, it occurred to me that I had never told her my last name was Jane.
ASTREA USED A large iron key shaped like an arrowhead to open a door and led me into a room that was clearly a library, for every inch of wall was taken up by books in large, ornately carved cases that rose all the way to the ceiling a good fifteen feet above us. In the center of the room were lumpy chairs and scuffed tables scattered hither and thither.
As I gazed around, there was a distinct click. A section of the bookcases had opened, revealing a patch of darkness beyond. We entered the space, which was completely black until we had moved into it. Then the room was awash in light that cast the objects in the room into exaggerated relief.
There were comfortable-looking overstuffed armchairs and small tables upon which rested contraptions unrecognizable to me. There was a large wooden desk cut from timb
er so aged that it looked petrified. Behind the desk was a leather chair with a high wooden back with gleaming nail-heads visible. On the desk were papers and parchments and scrolls, stacks of books and glass inkwells and a rack of old-fashioned quills that I had once seen my grandfather use to write a letter.
There was a small fireplace surrounded by brick, with a thin copper-edged chimneypiece upon which sat a clock that, thankfully for my nerves, had no serpents on its face. In front of the empty fireplace were two equally decrepit-looking chairs with the stuffing falling out and tiny footstools in front, where one’s feet could draw closer to the warmth if there had been a fire burning.
The next instant, Harry Two and I leapt back as the fireplace, which had been empty not only of fire but also of logs, sprang to life and roaring flames leapt forth. The room, chilly when we had entered, quickly became warm and comforting and, despite my excitement, I felt my eyes droop a bit. I suddenly realized that I was beyond exhausted.
My eyes snapped wide open when I glanced at the floor. It was wooden, the boards worn down over the sessions from the tread of innumerable footsteps. But I was not focused on the planks. I was looking at the square of tattered rug upon it.
More to the point, my gaze held on the images on the rug.
“What are those creatures?” I asked breathlessly.
Harry Two went to stand on the rug, and I watched as he reached out a tentative paw and touched one of the figures woven into its surface.
Astrea pointed to the one on the left. “That’s a unicorn. Its horn of course can cure all known poisons.”
I had no idea what a unicorn even was. “And the other?” I asked, looking at it. Though undoubtedly aged, the colors of the rug’s images were extraordinarily bright, more vibrant than anything I’d ever created at Stacks.
“A firebird,” she said casually. “So named because of its exceptionally brilliant plumage. The feathers of the actual bird can be used to light the way and also for warmth against the cold.”
“Wait a mo’, I’ve seen one,” I said. “It chased me into a cave.”
“Indeed? ’Tis not usually dangerous.”
“Are you sure Delph is safe?” I blurted out.
“He is safe. You care much for your friend?”
“I care everything for him.”
“It is a dangerous thing to place so much of one’s self in another.”
I ignored this and, summoning up courage, I said, “How did you know my surname was Jane?”
Instead of answering, she seized my hand with surprising strength and exclaimed, “That mark? How did you come by it?”
I looked down at the inked three hooks, which I had drawn there.
I jerked my hand free from her grip. I had just endured imprisonment from Thorne. I was not going to make the same mistake with her. Until I knew she was a friend, she would be considered a potential enemy.
“It’s the same mark as on this ring.” I took it from my cloak pocket and showed it to her. “It belonged to my grandfather,” I added warily.
“So he had this ring? You’re absolutely certain?”
“Yes.” I wasn’t about to tell her that it could make me invisible.
She studied the ring for a few more moments before pointing at my hand. “That’s only ink.”
“I know, because I inked it,” I replied promptly. “My grandfather had the same mark on the back of his hand, though it wasn’t simply inked.”
She waved her hand over mine and the mark vanished.
I stared down at my clean skin and then back up at her.
“Do you know what it means?” I asked.
“No.”
I knew she was telling an untruth, which made me ever warier of her.
Before I could ask another question, she walked over to a large blank wall and Harry Two and I scurried after her.
She raised her hand and an astonishingly bright light blasted from it and hit the wall a direct blow. I immediately squatted down and shielded my eyes from what I thought would be a terrific blast emanating from the collision of wall and light. But there was no explosion. I opened my eyes and stood.
And gasped.
The entire wall had come to life. If the little table in the other room was impressive in what it had shown me, this spectacle was like a mountain versus a knoll by comparison. Every inch of the great wall, which must have measured fully fifty feet in length, was now ablaze with images, moving images.
Astrea turned to me and said simply, “The Quag. In all its glory. And in all its depravity, which runs deeply. Very deeply indeed.”
When I had first seen the extent of the Quag from the top of the plateau where Delph, Harry Two and I were chased by the garms and amarocs, I had been gobsmacked by its breadth and dark, sinister beauty. I had thought I was seeing to the very horizon of the Quag, but I apparently had been wrong about that.
As I watched, spellbound, I could see herds of unknown creatures bounding across open plains and up rugged ridges. Flying creatures, some I knew, most of which I didn’t, soared across a sky that was as black as a lump of coal. Trees trembled and creatures crept and I could hear sounds, some gentle that tickled my ears, and others fiercely foreboding that gnarled my nerves and chilled my courage. I saw the majestic peak of the Blue Mountain. And there was the dark river that snaked across the face of the Quag to places unknown and probably hostile. With a thrill that reached all the way to my toes, I thought I saw a small boat with something or someone inside it, slowly making its way across the water’s wide, blackened width. That image vanished and was replaced with a frek devouring what looked to be a goat. And then a creature stepped from the trees into the clearing and came into full view.
It was tall and powerfully built, and though it stood on two legs like I did, it had fangs and claws and long, straight hair over its body.
I glanced quickly at Astrea. “What is that ghastly thing?”
“ ’Tis a lycan,” she said.
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Its bite makes you become like … it.”
We watched as the lycan, with a tremendous leap that covered yards of dirt, attacked the frek. There was a furious battle, for they seemed fairly equally matched. Yet finally the lycan won out and its fangs bit deeply into the frek’s neck. The latter howled in pain and fury and then, bloody and beaten, it broke free and fled into the trees.
The lycan stood there, dripping blood from wounds inflicted by the frek, and then it reached its clawed hands to the darkened sky and roared in triumph. It was a terrifying spectacle to witness and yet I found I could not look away.
“The frek’s bite drives one mad,” I said in a hollow tone.
“The lycan is already mad, Vega. A frek’s bite will not make a spot of difference to its tortured mind.”
A long sliver of silence passed. “What is beyond the Quag?” I asked.
“Why did you enter the Quag?” she asked me once again.
“I don’t see why that matters,” I said stubbornly.
She looked back at me impassively. “The difference between what I think matters and what you think does could likely fill a bookcase.”
“Do you know what’s beyond the Quag?” I persisted.
I glanced at her in time to see her face seize up like she was in pain. But before I could say anything, she replied, “It is late. And I’m very tired.”
“Well, I’m not tired,” I said in a strident tone.
“I will show you your digs and then you can stay up or sleep, as you like.”
“And I can go where I want? I mean inside the cottage?”
“You can go into any room that will let you. Mind you, not all of them will.”
I looked at her like she’d gone completely mental. “The room mightn’t let me?”
“Rooms have opinions,” she said. “And feelings too.”
“Feelings!” I exclaimed.
“Feelings I said and feelings I meant,” she reiterated forcefully, and then
turned and strode away.
I hurried after her, wondering what madness awaited me in this place.
MY DIGS TURNED out to be a large oval room with not a stick of furniture in it. I turned to Astrea and said, “It’s all right. I have no problem sleeping on the floor.”
“Now, why would you do that, I wonder?” she asked.
I gazed around the room to make sure I had not somehow missed a hulking bedstead lurking in a corner. “Well, I’d need a bed to —”
Harry Two and I jumped back to avoid being crushed by a mammoth four-poster that seemed to drop from the ceiling.
“Bloody Hel,” I cried out, my chest heaving and my limbs quivering. Harry Two started barking madly until I held up one hand and he instantly quieted.
“One must be careful what one asks for, at least in my cottage,” said Astrea casually, as she fluffed up the pillows. She turned to me. “Or at least move quickly on one’s feet, as you did, my dear,” she added benignly.
“B-but where did that bed come from?”
“It comes from wherever such things exist before they’re needed. And it saves no end of cleaning time to have the things go away while they’re unnecessary.”
“So,” I said, “you simply ask for something and it appears?”
“I told you, did I not, that rooms have views and opinions? Does it not logically follow that they can hear what you say?”
“Well, a stout wardrobe would not be unwelcome for my things.”
I was ready this time. I had already jumped out of the way when an oak wardrobe with two big doors and a drawer underneath landed with a thud against a wall across from the bed. As I stared at it, the doors opened, and inside were nice cubbies and metal hooks for hanging clothes.
Astrea gave me an appraising look. “I see you’re getting the gist of things.”
“Should I wish for a table and chairs?” I said, ready to jump.
However, they simply appeared in the corner of the room with a lighted candle in the center, burning brightly. I looked at her inquiringly.
“There’s no rule that all things must drop from the ceiling,” she said. “Now, are you hungry? I daresay things can be scrounged up in the kitchen. It does an excellent trifle, in fact, if you fancy such.”
The Keeper Page 10
