On the ground floor, he noticed children coming in from outside and going to the Great Hall. Walt was one of them, and seeing Edwin, he said almost too casually, “You’re looking a little gray around the edges. Are you feeling all right?”
Edwin pulled his black blanket tighter around his shoulders. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
Edwin nodded. “I think I just ate something bad.” He was thankful Walt didn’t remind him that they all ate the same food.
At the head of the Great Hall, Headmistress Vanora stood with her hands clasped and waited for everyone to sit down. It took a minute for everyone to find a seat, and the room became quiet.
Filling her lungs, Headmistress Vanora began. “I’ve gathered you all here to remind you that the winter fair is next weekend. Now, I know the fair is an exciting time for everyone, and I just got our tickets.”
Edwin saw people tense but no one spoke. Out of habit, Headmistress Vanora reminded them all to remain silent while she reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of blue and red tickets. Edwin craned his neck to see; even he was excited. He had always wanted to go. Looking down at the colorful tents each winter had been a regular reminder of how little his foster parents trusted him.
“Unfortunately,” Headmistress Vanora continued smugly, “this year we could only buy six tickets a day, so with me going both days, that only leaves enough tickets for ten children.”
“But there are fifteen of us,” the girl with glasses cried. Not daring to meet Vanora’s gaze after her outburst, the girl stared down at her hands.
Headmistress Vanora glared at the girl a moment, then said, “Yes, that’s right, there are fifteen, so I will be deciding between now and then which five children will not go.” A chill ran through the group. Almost cheerful, she continued, “That’s all for now. I will let you know my decision at such a time as it suits me.” Vanora left the room, and for once she seemed pleased to leave them chatting amongst themselves.
“I can’t believe everyone doesn’t get to go,” said a boy.
“Who do you think she’ll pick?” asked the girl with glasses.
“The Oculi will get to go for sure,” said another girl.
“Indeed we will,” Ashton agreed.
“That only leaves eight tickets!” a boy moaned.
“Maybe Vanora would let us pay our own way,” Walt said.
“And show her you’ve saved money?” said Pech. “She’d take it for sure. Maintenance for Hawthorne or some such nonsense.”
“You lot have been hiding funds from the Headmistress?” asked Ashton, his voice high and indignant.
Walt rolled his eyes. “Of course we have. How else do you expect us to buy treats at the fair?”
“When the Headmistress learns—”Ashton said.
Walt balled his hands up into fists, and said, “She’s never going to learn anything, or I’ll—”
“What’s it like?” Edwin interrupted. For some reason everyone listened when he spoke.
“It’s wonderful,” a little girl said. “It’s the only time in the whole of winter that outsiders come to trade.”
“They have all sorts of neat toys from all over the fire lands,” said another girl.
“And entertainers and shows!” a boy added.
“A-are there animals?” Edwin asked.
“Sure, all sorts,” Pech said. “They have some exotic ones for the shows, and some common farm animals for trade.”
The kids slowly began running out of things to say, and as the crowd started breaking away, Edwin took the opportunity to sneak off and go back to his room.
Floating out from his glove, the spirit waited until they were alone upstairs to say, “You’re looking bad.” Oddly, the itching in his hand increased without the spirit under his glove.
“I know. My hand is getting worse.”
“You musst do something quickly. These last few dayss you’ve been acting like you’re already dead. Perhapss you need an incentive.” It crackled a menacing red. “I feel my own energy fading with you. We must be connected in more ways than we realize.”
This was news to Edwin, but looking at the spirit closely now, it did seem its essence was less full and smoky. “No incentive is necessary. The fair sounds like the chance we’ve been waiting for, doesn’t it? I’ve been thinking I could sneak out one night after everyone went to sleep.”
The spirit crackled happily, and said, “That’s a good idea.” Wind whistled against the window, but he felt comfortable inside under his blanket. Neither mentioned how well sneaking out had worked for them at the inn, but the news of the fair had given Edwin an energy he hadn’t felt in days. He felt so energized he decided to go find Walt.
In the hall, he heard voices coming from Sam’s room. The door was cracked, and Edwin peeked inside. “And why is he always around?” Rash asked. “I know he’s your roommate, but it seems like you’re spending more time with him than us.”
“Have you seen him fight? That’s not normal,” Drew added. With his long torso, he towered over the other children. “What’s your fascination with him?”
“I feel sorry for him,” Walt replied. “He doesn’t have a family and he’s never had any friends.”
“Yeah, but he’s weird,” Pech said. Even his voice was fat.
“Yes, very, very weird,” Drew agreed. Edwin sensed the spirit bristle with indignation.
“But he’s not hurting anything,” Walt said. “I really like him. Give him a chance.”
“And have you seen the way some of the adults look at him?” Rash asked as he pushed his glasses up his nose. “Seriously, there’s something wrong with him. You get in enough trouble already, Walt. I know your grandfather is the Lucent, but—”
Edwin heard a voice behind him and jumped. “Are you going to go in, or are you just going to block the hall all day?” Sam asked.
Pech turned and saw him first, and motioned for the others to be quiet. Edwin froze.
Walt recovered first. “Come on in.” Before anyone else could move, he was up and making room for him on Sam’s bed.
With everyone staring at him, Edwin didn’t feel like he had much of a choice. As he sat down, he saw Sam wasn’t alone. Martha and her puppies had followed a few feet behind, and they now sat on either side of Edwin.
Martha broke the silence. “Why is everyone so quiet?” she asked.
Flatly, Sam said, “Edwin heard Drew, Pech, and Rash telling Walt that they didn’t like him, and now they’re all embarrassed.”
Martha smirked. “Harsh.”
“Leave it to Sam not to mince words,” Walt said reproachfully. “Listen, Edwin—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Edwin said. An uncomfortable silence hung over the room, which Martha again interrupted.
“So I’ve been meaning to ask you two, why are you staying at Hawthorne?” Her question was directed at Walt and Sam.
“I told you,” Sam said. “We’re waiting for our aunts to come down from Newick.”
“It seems like you’ve been waiting forever,” Martha said.
Sam shrugged, and then, changing the subject, asked, “Did you hear about Master Carrion’s garden? The Lucent doesn’t want him to sell his food at the fair this year.”
“Why wouldn’t they want him selling at the fair?” Walt asked.
“Master Carrion has a garden?” Edwin blurted out.
“Yes, Master Carrion has a garden just by his shop. You haven’t seen it from the attic? It has a glass roof to let in light.”
“No, I never n-noticed,” said Edwin, blushing fiercely.
“How could you miss it?” Rash asked. “Couldn’t you see it from the ledge? How many glass roofs are there?” Edwin shook his head.
“Be nice,” Walt said, hitting Rash in the arm. Then, to Edwin, he said, “Master Carrion is really proud of his garden. He thinks one day Chardwick could be self-reliant, which would be huge. We would no longer have to rely on Newick for trade. Most people t
hink it’s crazy. There’s no room to grow in Chardwick, but Carrion has the Lucent’s support. Lucent Weston even donated his bathhouse to the project. It sits on a small pocket of hot water from the only hot spring in Chardwick. It keeps the walls warm and Carrion’s plants alive.”
“I don’t know why Grandfather doesn’t want Master Carrion selling at the fair this year,” Sam said. “Master Carrion seems to think he is preparing for something. I heard that Nemain was also given a short list of weapons she can trade with Newick this year. It seems that Grandfather is stockpiling food.”
“Grandfather always has been paranoid,” Walt said.
“So Lucent Weston… is your grandfather?” Edwin asked.
Walt smiled a sly grin. “Erm, yeah. Didn’t mean to keep it from you. I was just worried, you not being from down here, you’d think it was special. But no one treats Sam and me different, especially our grandfather.”
“Hawthorne isn’t so bad,” said one of Martha’s puppies.
“Especially if you’re lucky like Sam and Edwin and get to keep an apprenticeship with Master Carrion,” Martha said.
* * *
Edwin snuck out of Hawthorne as casually as he could. “Why didn’t you tell me Master Carrion had a garden?” he asked the spirit. They were towards White Foot Way, and Edwin was careful not to talk too loud. It had been hours since he had first learned of the garden, but it was the first time he and the spirit had been alone.
“I didn’t know,” it hissed in his ear.
“How could you not know? You know everything and go everywhere.”
“I know where it iss,” the spirit hissed.
“But you just said—”
“I didn’t know. I do now.”
“How—”
“The bells.”
“What bells?” Edwin asked.
“Come, follow me.”
The spirit rushed forward. There were a few villagers out, and as Edwin raced to keep up, he wondered how no one else could notice a puff of black smoke flying down the road. To him, it stuck out to Edwin like Carrion’s abnormally short leg, which along with his cane, Edwin thought was hard to miss. Luckily, the faint puff of smoke went unnoticed, but it still made him nervous following the spirit out in the open like this.
White Foot Way was a long road that went all the way around Chardwick, but the spirit didn’t take him far. Still, because it was past the road where Edwin always turned to get to Carrion’s shop, it was in a part of Chardwick he hadn’t yet visited. The spirit stopped and waited for him in a patch of brown snow. Then, as Edwin drew near, it floated up to his ear and said, “The garden.”
It was easy to see that this building was different than any other in Chardwick. Delicate star-and-spade carvings gave the building’s walls an appearance of luxury Chardwick hadn’t seen in many generations. Every few feet the builders had carved a recess into the wall and each was filled with statues of Lucents long dead. With serious faces and lifeless eyes, they seemed better suited for a crypt than a bathhouse. But more than the statues, what really caught Edwin’s attention was the fountain, which was filled with steaming water even in winter.
“Woah, I guess Walt wasn’t lying about the hot spring,” Edwin said. Away from the fountain the snow stopped just shy of the wall. “Why haven’t you told me about this place?”
“The bellss,” said the spirit again.
“What bells?” Edwin asked.
But no sooner had the words come out of his mouth than he heard the faintest sound of chiming lingering in the air. It took a moment of looking before he caught sight of a small windflute hanging from the building. Once he knew what he was looking for, he then spotted another and another. They blended in with the star-and-spade stonework, but the old bathhouse was covered in them.
“What are they?” Edwin asked.
“They hurt my essence,” the spirit said. “I dare not go farther.”
A gust of wind blew past his face, and the windflutes chimed a little louder. The spirit’s essence shook and scattered, and came back together a safer distance away. The windflutes reminded him of Lady Nemain’s horn, only the horn had never had any effect on him or the spirit. The windflutes continued to flutter back and forth.
Edwin had to hide his excitement. He had never known anything to repel the spirit, and his mind swam with possibilities. Something like this could be his answer to getting rid of the spirit for good. Then again, it couldn’t be a coincidence that the windflutes had this strange effect on the spirit, and he wondered whether he should be worried that there was some kind of trap.
Accidentally, he locked eyes with a woman walking towards the mine on White Foot Way, and he wondered how strange he looked cradling his hand, talking to himself, and staring at this old building. Blushing, he looked away and walked around the wall, away from the fountain.
The spirit stayed behind, watching him from a safe distance. He took off his glove and put his good hand to the wall and found that it was warm. On the other side of the building Edwin found a back door, but it was locked. He needed to find a way inside.
A red spark shot through the spirit’s essence, followed by another. Even though Edwin thought they were alone on this side of the building, he wished the spirit wouldn’t risk drawing attention to itself. It wasn’t until he saw the spirit fly behind a stairwell a few houses away that he realized it had been trying to warn him that someone was coming.
Edwin moved as fast as he could off the road and into the nearest recess in the wall, back behind a Lucent’s statue. He caught the sound of two familiar voices.
“…isn’t a good idea for Edwin to be here. You never should have let him come down the ledge.”
Smack. It was the sound of wood hitting flesh, followed by an exhale of air.
“Remember who you’re speaking to, Sam,” Master Carrion said. “I did all I could to keep that boy up on the ledge. I was risking too much as it was. All might have been lost.”
They were walking right in front of the statue now. Edwin shrank as low as he could to the ground. He didn’t dare peek around the statue to see their faces.
“Yes, Master Carrion. It’s only that Edwin is going to ruin everything. He draws attention to our work and to himself. His work with the Fury has raised more than a few eyebrows. And people still whisper about why the Medgards so suddenly returned him.”
“The boy is a silly little thing, but he is the key to the Host’s Tomb. And he’s also only fifteen, Sam. You can’t expect everyone to be as cautious as you.”
“And then there’s Walt. Walt will also be a problem. Maybe a bigger problem.”
There was a click and the door to the old bathhouse slid open. “Your twin is your responsibility, Sam.”
“With Edwin and Walt together, maybe we’d be better of with him dead.”
“Perhaps… Close the door behind you. The Lucent will be here soon, and he wants to hear about the boy…”
The door shut, and for a moment Edwin could do nothing but shake uncontrollably. But he quickly gathered his wits, crawled out from behind the statue, and ran back to Hawthorne as fast as his legs would take him.
CHAPTER 10: AN IMP ON THE ROAD
Edwin didn’t want to, but the spirit talked him into going to his apprenticeship at Master Carrion’s apothecary the next day. The creature was probably right; not showing up would only rouse suspicion. He worried all the way to Carrion’s shop, but the day turned out to be completely uneventful.
That night, as Edwin and Walt were sitting alone in their room waiting for lights out, Edwin asked Walt, “How close are you and Sam?”
“We’re twins. Not identical, thankfully. Everyone knows identical twins are a bad omen. Most are sacrificed to the hallow tree. Erm, what was your question?”
“I asked if you and Sam were close,” Edwin repeated.
“Right,” Walt said. “Sam and I share blood and we’re close in our way, but we’ve never been able to agree on much. Why do you ask?”
> “Just curious since you two don’t seem to spend too much time together.” Edwin knew he couldn’t risk telling Walt about overhearing Sam’s conversation with Master Carrion, no matter how much he’d like to talk to someone about it. “I think Sam hates me, and I’m not really sure why.”
Walt laughed. “Sam hates everybody, even me sometimes. Don’t worry about what Sam thinks. I’m glad you’re different from this whole messed up village. And I like that you listen to my stories, but you don’t take all that Chardwick and its sacred duty business seriously. At least you try to think for yourself. And when you relax a little, you’re actually really funny. And the Fury—don’t get me started on the Fury. When you fight, it’s like you’re possessed. I wish I could fight half so well.”
Edwin had never received such compliments before, and he blushed fiercely. He went to bed that night considering everything Walt had said.
Three hours later, Edwin crawled out of bed fully clothed, tiptoed across his room, and closed the door gently behind him. Red sparks coursed through his spirit’s essence. “We’re closse to healing,” it said. “I can feel it. And the ssooner you heal, the ssooner you can find the book. Your mother—”
“I know. I heard Carrion and Sam. They know there’s something wrong with me.” He paused to tie his black blanket securely around his neck and then made his way downstairs. The hall was dark and he had to feel his way down the banister.
When they had almost reached the front door, the spirit asked, “How do you plan to open the door?”
“Shh,” Edwin replied.
As though trapped between snow and sky, the moonlight that poured in through the window was unnaturally gray. It looked to Edwin like the color of desperation. Without asking the spirit’s permission, Edwin said the words of joining, and its essence flew into his body and its power into his veins. Then, holding his hand as he had seen his mother do hundreds of times in his dreams, he said the words he knew he shouldn’t.
The Dark Passenger (Book 1) Page 10
