The House of Power

by Patrick Carman

  Back in his room, Samuel transferred the water from the cup into a leather container and sealed the top with a string. He put it and the two baguettes inside a sack retrieved from under his table. Tying the bundle around his waist, he made his way to the main gate.

  A bustle of activity surrounded the entryway to the House of Power. Men on horses were let through and given supplies to take out to the field. When a large group of men heaving baskets and bags proceeded through the gate, Samuel skirted around and between them. One of the men saw him and laughed, thinking the boy was looking for adventure, and didn’t want to spoil his fun.

  “Where are you off to?” he asked curiously.

  “I just want to see what everyone is doing.”

  “Then you’ll want to come this way,” said the man. He called to his comrades. “We have ourselves a little soldier!”

  Though the men were dreading the confrontation that might occur, they were also proud and oddly excited and willing to give a future mate a look at what all the fuss was about. Samuel tagged along, asking questions while planning to sneak away to the cliffs when they weren’t watching him. He desperately hoped he could discover a way down, and that he would find his friend waiting in the grove.

  All the while the ground trembled on, drawing Samuel closer to a world he’d previously known only from a distance.

  CHAPTER

  17

  QUAKES AND TREMORS

  When Sir Emerik arrived in the grove, he tried to put his hood on to hide the hair that had gone missing, but it stuck to his head with a burning and itching he couldn’t stand. As he made his way through the trees, some of the workers stared curiously. When he finally stood at the front steps of Mr. Ratikan’s house, he was trying to think of a lie that would disguise the absurdity of what had actually happened. He didn’t knock on the door until he was satisfied with his own telling of things.

  “Lord Phineus, are you in there?”

  Mr. Ratikan opened the door, and Sir Emerik found Lord Phineus sitting in a chair waiting for him.

  “What happened to you?” scoffed Mr. Ratikan, who stood behind Sir Emerik, gazing at what remained of the man’s hair.

  “Oh, shut up!”

  Sir Emerik was just about to tell Lord Phineus of the battle he’d had with the rebellious villagers when the floor of the house began to shake. It started softly, then grew into a violent heaving. The cups and spoons on Mr. Ratikan’s table rattled furiously and began falling to the floor in groups of three or four. The three men raced outside, and Sir Emerik fell to his knees as Lord Phineus and Mr. Ratikan steadied themselves against a swaying tree. The house was beginning to collapse into itself.

  “My house!” screamed Mr. Ratikan. “My beautiful house!”

  But Lord Phineus wasn’t looking at Mr. Ratikan’s home as it fell to pieces. His eyes were fixed upon his own home in the Highlands, in awe as it sunk into the ground, faster than he’d thought possible in his wildest imagining.

  “Look there,” he said with a surprising calmness, pointing to the cliffs that plummeted with such fury. A brutal crunching noise rippled across the land as it made its way down. Lord Phineus estimated that at this rate, it might take only a few hours to crash into Tabletop.

  And then—as quickly as it had begun—the quaking settled down to a low hum, and the descent of the Highlands slowed. Lord Phineus could hear it churning, grinding the earth as it slowly continued its march. We are but a day away, if that. I must move quickly.

  Sir Emerik raised himself off the ground, fallen leaves stuck to the side of his head. “Every soul in Atherton knows now, of that we can be sure.”

  Mr. Ratikan was in a state of shock as he stood before what was once his home. All that remained were the three steps leading to a pile of rubble.

  “What’s happening, Lord Phineus? What have you done?” asked Mr. Ratikan, rage brewing in his eyes. He was looking at Lord Phineus as though the ruler of the Highlands could move mountains.

  Lord Phineus took hold of Mr. Ratikan’s walking stick and tore it from his hand. Then he stepped back and swung it at the master of the grove, just missing his head as he ducked and tumbled to the ground.

  “I would prefer it if you didn’t use that tone with me, Mr. Ratikan.”

  There was nothing Sir Emerik liked more than to watch as someone of importance was beaten down. He had always hated Mr. Ratikan for his lack of cleverness, and he was sure the man was in the habit of hoarding figs from the grove that should have been sent up to the Highlands. He’s finally getting his due, thought Sir Emerik.

  Lord Phineus continued, holding the end of the stick only an inch from Mr. Ratikan’s face. “I’m glad one of us had the presence of mind to bring this out of the house.” In his other hand he clenched the bag of dirt from the basket. “Can you imagine the grove with this released freely into the air?”

  Sir Emerik began to ask about the curious bag in his master’s hand.

  “Silence!” Lord Phineus screamed, pointing the walking stick at his companion. Mr. Ratikan tried to stand up, but the stick was back in his face before he could escape.

  “Keep the people under your charge in control until I return. If there is an uprising in the grove, it is you who will pay.” Lord Phineus raised his gaze to the Highlands once more, then tossed the walking stick aside. “We must go, but I suspect we’ll be back sooner than you think.”

  Lord Phineus was not in a chatty mood as they walked under the canopy of trees. Sir Emerik had grown to understand that there were times in which speaking would not be to his advantage, and so he kept his mouth shut. Neither of them liked to be in the grove, for the trees forced them into uncomfortable ducking and weaving, which annoyed both men. When they finally came free of the trees and stood upright, Sir Emerik could feel the question coming from his quiet companion even before it was in the air.

  “What happened to your head?” asked Lord Phineus. They were moving toward the cliffs now, and Sir Emerik had other concerns on his mind.

  “Do you really think it wise to try and go back? What if there is more shaking and the basket loosens? We’ll be killed.” The Highlands moved slowly now, but the two of them could still see and hear its determined progress.

  “All right then, if you won’t answer that question, then tell me how the people in the village are reacting to the Highlands’ descent.”

  Sir Emerik thought, By burning all of my hair off, you heartless madman! Regaining his composure, he told the story he’d concocted on the way back from the Village of Rabbits.

  “There was a great deal of questioning and hostility. The townsfolk had me cornered at the inn—a place we should seriously think about closing down—and they weren’t going to let me go. When I struggled to escape, the monsters tried to torch me! I think we should be prepared for the worst, Lord Phineus.”

  Lord Phineus smiled cruelly.

  “I do believe you’re right, Sir Emerik. We will do well to anticipate them, don’t you agree?”

  Sir Emerik nodded. “Always better to be on the offensive,” he said, though he had not an ounce of military knowledge to back his assertion.

  “And there was no sign of the boy?” asked Lord Phineus.

  “No, I didn’t see the boy. No one in the village knew who I was talking about.” It would not be an overstatement to say that Sir Emerik was a magnificent liar, and it was impossible for Lord Phineus to tell that he’d just been told a big one.

  Not another word passed between them as the two made their way to the cliff walls. A pair of guards were on duty at the basket when they arrived. The men were accustomed to watching the pool at the grove, but Lord Phineus had demanded they be moved earlier in the day. Things were unstable, he thought. What if someone from Tabletop tried to take control of the basket, leaving him stranded below?

  “Everything still in one piece?” asked Sir Emerik, a hint of nervous energy in his voice.

  “Yes, sir—everything works fine,” said the taller of the two guards
.

  “Fine, then get back to your watch at the pool. The water supply might become… compromised.”

  Sir Emerik couldn’t hide a certain amount of contempt when he spoke to these people. They couldn’t read, and in his mind this made them stupid and only marginally useful. But Lord Phineus saw them differently. He had long taken comfort in knowing he could control things from afar. The guards at the basket were of the minority in Tabletop who could be bought with a price to maintain control. They worked for Lord Phineus and received special privileges for doing so, but it was hard to say where their allegiance would lie if a conflict arose. He wondered now if the Highlands could count on them.

  “Gentlemen, you understand that the Highlands may collapse all the way and become even with Tabletop, don’t you?” The guards nodded. “I shall put you to great use if this should come to pass. Understood?”

  Both men said “yes,” but neither was entirely sure on which side he would serve if ever relations between the two realms turned violent.

  “Instructions will follow shortly.” Lord Phineus carefully set the bag from Mr. Ratikan’s house into the basket, then climbed in. Sir Emerik was not enthusiastic about following, but the alternative bothered him even more. He couldn’t be left behind while Sir Philip and Lord Phineus plotted a war without him.

  As if marking time, the mound of rope at Sir Emerik’s feet was growing larger as the cliffs continued their descent.

  “Get in, Sir Emerik. We haven’t got all day,” Lord Phineus snapped.

  Sir Emerik sighed, grabbed hold of the edge of the basket, and jumped inside.

  It was a strange sensation rising up while the cliff was coming down all at one time, but it was especially disorienting for Sir Emerik. He had endured a difficult day of being tied up, having his hair go up in flames, and trekking for miles between the grove and the village. Instead of watching the world below, he sat on the floor of the basket wondering about the purpose of the bag at Lord Phineus’s feet. The basket pitched from side to side, and he felt his stomach swirl.

  Lord Phineus glanced down at Sir Emerik and saw his ill expression. Along with his burnt head and hair, it was a revolting sight. He quickly turned away.

  “If you’re going to be sick, don’t do it in here.” Lord Phineus stepped away from Sir Emerik, who stood and leaned out over the edge of the basket. Out came the rabbits from the inn, the water he’d drunk there, and the baguette he’d eaten for breakfast. He remained sick for the rest of the trip, and when the basket reached the top, Lord Phineus hastily departed, leaving Sir Emerik to hobble back to the House of Power on his own.

  Even in his misery, Sir Emerik could not help but notice the frenzied activity among the inhabitants of the Highlands. Horses and food were being moved, the courtyard gates were heavily guarded, and the children were being gathered and sheltered indoors. Sir Philip’s certainly gotten everyone worked up now, hasn’t he? I wonder if he’s in over his head.

  When Sir Emerik arrived at the door to the inner chamber, it was locked, and neither Lord Phineus nor Sir Philip could be found. The two of them were in there—Sir Emerik was sure of it—and it worried him that he’d not been able to return sooner. He didn’t trust the two alone.

  With great urgency, he knocked on the door, but was refused entry.

  “Go away!”

  “But sir, it’s me, Sir Emerik.”

  “I’ll call for you when I’m ready. You may rest awhile.”

  Sir Emerik thought he might try to listen, but what if they opened the door and saw him there? He hesitated, then started up the stairs toward his room. The more I think of it, the happier I am that I’ve kept my secret well. Only I know the contents of the last page of the book. I must get Sir Philip alone to make the most of it.

  Mr. Ratikan had gathered all the men from the grove and in his haste and fury demanded that they stop what they were doing and go directly to work repairing his house. Thirty men were pulling up the walls and tearing out the fallen ceiling. They retrieved the furniture—most of which had been smashed—and then Mr. Ratikan called all the women and children from the grove to fix the broken bed and chairs and tables.

  Everyone in the grove had fallen houses of their own that they were now unable to attend to. Some had a sheep or a box of rabbits at home—treasures, to be sure—and these animals were seen dashing through the grove, nibbling on the grass beneath the trees. Mr. Ratikan was strutting about the place, rapping knees and backs with his walking stick and hollering, “Stay away from the water!” and “Get busy there, you!”

  And so it came to pass that the people of the grove began quietly whispering to one another that they would rise up and depart the grove as one and leave mean Mr. Ratikan to tend to his own house. Cruelty finally became Mr. Ratikan’s undoing, for they tied him to a tree and left him alone, without food or water, in full view of his broken house. He wept and cursed all day, but mostly he wondered what would happen to him when Lord Phineus came back to find he’d lost control of the grove.

  In the Village of Rabbits, some people were sifting through the rubble that had been made of their homes. Others were scurrying after thousands of rabbits that hopped down cobbled paths through the wreckage of the village, trying in vain to retrieve their property.

  And there was something else, something very odd that put people on edge. Someone had died, and this had never happened in the Village of Rabbits before. It was a Mason—Gabriella Mason—who was crushed when one of the walls of her home collapsed upon her. There was no cemetery on Atherton, and no one knew what to do with the body. Eventually they moved it to the steps of the inn, where Maude cleaned it and covered it with bunny sacks.

  After a time, the few hundred people of the village gathered around the first victim of the fall of the Highlands, and stood in silence. More than one rabbit hopped on Gabriella Mason’s body and sniffed all around before continuing in search of something to eat.

  CHAPTER

  18

  THE SOUND OF BREAKING BONES

  The sun had moved off to the other side of Atherton, casting a cold shadow over the cliff, where Edgar sat gazing down at the Flatlands. The rocks were darker and smoother here, with long winding curves that were nearly impossible to grab. With his great agility and climbing skills, Edgar was able to slide through the seams of these enormous formations and move quickly.

  But there was a problem he’d realized early on as he made his way down. It would be impossible—even for him—to climb back up again. Every inch he moved down was an inch to which he could never return, and he began to understand that the mysterious wasteland below would soon be his new home. There would be no escaping it once he arrived. It was a thought that haunted him in his descent to shadowy and unknown places.

  He would miss the grove and the Village of Rabbits, but not as much as the people he’d come to know—Isabel, Samuel, Briney, and Maude. Edgar hadn’t thought it would be so hard to leave them, and he wondered if making friends had been a mistake after all.

  Edgar was just coming to a ledge where he could rest when he shifted in a way that crushed the cooked rabbit in his pocket for what seemed like the hundredth time. He was trying to save the food for when he really needed it, but it was becoming wet and greasy against his skin, and the smell was starting to make him hungry. After carefully situating himself—legs dangling out over the edge—he pulled the roasted rabbit out of his shirt pocket.

  “Better to put this in my stomach where it can be of some use,” Edgar said out loud. He ate the three remaining legs first and flicked each of the bones into the open air as he gnawed them clean of every last bit of meat. He couldn’t help leaning forward and watching as the bones slowly disappeared, well before they hit the Flatlands.

  “I hope I’m not dropping these on someone’s head.” He chuckled to himself, but suddenly realized he didn’t know who or what threat might be below him. He strained to see people moving or smoke rising from below, but there was nothing—only a barren swath of
rocky ground beneath him. After that he stopped throwing the bones, placing the rest in a small crack in the rocks.

  His hand was beginning to feel better. By now all of the blisters had burst and scabs were forming, and he could see out of his eye without forcing it open. Looking up, he was once again reminded of the almost immeasurable distance down to the Flatlands. He estimated that he’d come only about a third of the way in the same amount of time it had taken him to make a complete trip down from the Highlands, even with the speed of his descent.

  Edgar was an impulsive boy of unusual determination, and he had set his mind to finding the second book of secret things without giving much thought to what he would do with the book once he found it. Even if he discovered the book in the vast openness of the Flatlands—which would be a feat in itself—he had no way of reading it and was unlikely to find someone in the Flatlands that could read it to him. He did not even know if there were another human being in the Flatlands.

  Edgar quickly shut the horrible thought out of his mind. That would be a kind of loneliness he’d never experienced and would never choose for himself.

  Edgar spent the rest of that first day climbing and sliding and almost falling too many times to count. The evening turned chillier than Edgar was accustomed to, and the lower he went, the colder the air enveloping him became. As night fell, he found a spot where he could lean back on the rock face. It wasn’t a cave, but it was almost flat, and though he had trouble sleeping for a while for fear of falling, eventually he drifted into a sort of half-sleep that revived him.

  When morning came, he saw that he was farther than halfway. He sipped at the precious water from the leather sack tied round his waist and nibbled at the few remaining bones in his pocket, and then he started off again.