The Secrets of Ordinary Farm of-2

by Tad Williams

  “Hey, Jenkins,” gasped Steve. He paused to shake a newt off his hand-a newt whose skin, despite the heavy rain, flickered with tiny yellow flames. “Do you think the world’s going to end tonight? ‘Cause I have to say, it kind of feels like that to me… ’

  Chapter 33

  A Snake Made of Smoke

  “Deuce, Cater, you gentlemen stay here,” Edward Stillman told his men as the car slid to a stop a hundred feet or so from the front door of the farmhouse. “I’ll call you if I need you-but I don’t think I will.”

  “Ummm… cell phones don’t work very well here,” Lucinda said.

  Stillman rolled his eyes and patted his coat where his shoulder holster was hidden. “I’ve also got a gun. Those work here, don’t they?”

  What was I thinking? She suddenly felt certain she’d made a terrible mistake but it was too late to back out now. How would Uncle Gideon feel when he found out she’d brought his worst enemy onto his property?

  But Gideon’s not himself, she thought, a nd the farm is in terrible trouble, so I’ll have to take my chances. She stepped in front of the billionaire. “No! No guns! You have to be careful. Innocent people live here. Animals, too.”

  Stillman showed her a cold smile. “I’ll do my best to remember that, young lady.”

  She led him down the driveway in the warm, heavy rain, then around to the kitchen’s back door.

  So far so good, Lucinda thought as she led him inside: We’re in the house and Stillman didn’t see any of the animals or anything else he shouldn’t. But how long could such luck last?

  She bypassed the kitchen and took him up a flight of stairs instead, then along one of the back halls that led past Mrs. Needle’s rooms, but an unexpected noise nearby in the pause between thunderclaps frightened her-someone on the steps? Maybe the witch herself?-and she hurried along to the end of the hall, then down the stairs there and into the ground floor hallway and rooms that ran behind the Snake Parlor. Gideon was probably still sleeping in there, which made it another likely spot to run into Mrs. Needle, something Lucinda didn’t want to do until she had a better idea of what was going on. But what was she going to do? What was the plan? She was always mad at Tyler for running off without thinking things through, but she had just done the same thing and she was beginning to realize how dangerous it was to be roaming this huge, confusing house, full of people, in a summer thunderstorm with Ed Stillman and his gun.

  In fact, what if Mrs. Needle and Stillman just went into business together? Why should the billionaire help Gideon when what he really wanted was to get rid of Gideon? No, she realized, this was a stupid idea and it’s getting worse by the second!

  She turned to Edward Stillman. “I think I took the wrong way,” she said quietly. “This place can be really confusing-you probably remember how big it is. We’d better go outside and look for another way around… ” If she had to she could run from him, hide somewhere-he hadn’t been here in so long that she must know the place better than he did. And after that? Well, surely Mr. Walkwell wouldn’t let Stillman and his bodyguards just wander around on the property!

  “No.” Stillman grabbed her arm in a surprisingly strong grip. “No, I don’t think so, young lady. I can hear voices on the other side of this wall.” He looked at a wide piece of furniture that stood against the wall, a cabinet with pegs for hats and scarves and umbrellas, marooned here sometime in the past and forgotten, far from any entrance. “And there’s a door there behind that hall tree.”

  “That’s door’s nailed closed,” whispered Lucinda. That was the truth-she’d tried to open it once from the Snake Parlor side and found out it was impossible.

  “Very likely, but there’s a little fanlight window over the door. If I find something to stand on I can look into the other room and see who’s in there.”

  He had started climbing onto the hall tree before she could think of a reason not to. He pressed his face against the glass and his eyes widened. His voice was a hoarse whisper. “Well, I’ll be a son of a …!”

  “What is it? What?” She was so frustrated she wanted to shout at him, but of course she didn’t dare. She ran and got a chair from farther down the hallway and carried it back, then climbed up onto its seat to peer into the window. She didn’t like standing this close to Stillman, smelling his lime-scented grownup’s aftershave, but she desperately wanted to find out what was happening in the Snake Parlor.

  A second later she began to think she would have been happier not knowing.

  Gideon’s bed was still at the center of the room and Gideon was still in it, but beyond that everything looked more like a horror movie than another evening at the farm. Skinny old Gideon had been tied to the bed, his wrists knotted to temporary aluminum rails like the little girl in the “Exorcist” movie. He wasn’t exactly struggling to get free but his shadowed eyes were fixed on Mrs. Needle with an expression of animal fury.

  Or maybe it wasn’t Mrs. Needle he was staring at, Lucinda abruptly realized. Maybe it was the tall man in the dark hat and coat that made him glare that way. Lucinda could understand that-seeing that face again made her feel short of breath and sick to her stomach, too.

  Jackson Kingaree was back in Gideon’s house.

  “I should kill him… the traitor,” Stillman murmured.

  “You know Kingaree?” Lucinda was horrified. Were they all working together?

  “Who?” Stillman looked so angry he could have chewed his way through the wall with his teeth. “No, I’m talking about that little weasel, Dankle.” And indeed, the lawyer had just moved up out of the shadows and into the light where Lucinda could see him. He was pale and sweaty, and looked almost as frightened as Lucinda herself.

  Dankle was pacing back and forth beside Gideon’s bed. When he spoke, Lucinda could only barely hear him through the glass. “… It’s just… it’s just that this will never hold water,” he said, hands flapping. “Legally speaking, I mean. Just look at him! Mr. Goldring is plainly not in his right mind!”

  “But you’re going to say he is in his right mind, lawyer.” Kingaree’s voice was deep and rough. Lucinda pressed closer to the window. “That’s why you’re here. And you’re in it a sight too deep to back out now.” He smiled. It wasn’t pleasant. “Or am I wrong, Mr. Dankle?”

  “I’m not… I’m not saying… ” The lawyer was flustered. He moved closer to Mrs. Needle as though she could protect him. From this angle Lucinda could see the room’s big stained glass window, but it was dark on the other side and the details of the design were murky, the serpent a mass of dark coils like billowing smoke.

  A snake made of smoke, was Lucinda’s fearful thought. That’s like Mrs. Needle-full of poison, but you can never catch her, never pin her down…!

  “But people are going to talk, you know,” Dankle went on, “especially if one of the witnesses benefits from the change in the will.”

  “Damn!” said Ed Stillman, a little too loud for Lucinda’s comfort with only a pane of very old glass between them and the conspirators in the Snake Parlor. “You were right, girl. She’s trying to change the will in her own favor!”

  “It won’t be me, though, it will be Colin,” Mrs. Needle told the lawyer, her voice soothing and reasonable. “A boy Gideon has raised for years as if he were his own son-raised to be his heir. And you can clearly see that Mr. Goldring is no longer fit to manage the place, Mr. Dankle. It’s terrible, but he’s completely lost his mind. He wouldn’t have wanted the place to fall apart just because he was… unwell.”

  “But… ” The lawyer shook his head but could not meet her eye. “That’s all well and good, Mrs. Needle, but if the will is ever contested… ”

  “And who would do such a thing, Barnaby?” she cooed, leaning close to the flustered Dankle. “The Jenkins children? Those distant, distant relatives whom Gideon himself has thrown off the property?” She eyed the lawyer for a moment. “Mr. Kingaree, would you do me a kindness? I left Mr. Dankle’s rather generous retainer in an envelope on my des
k upstairs. Would you go and fetch it so we can get on with things? Gideon will need his rest soon.”

  To everyone’s surprise, Gideon himself spoke in a strange, guttural scrape, like someone with a mouthful of dirt. “Have… to

  … want… to… it hurts…!”

  “Poor dear thing,” said Mrs. Needle, stroking Gideon’s head like he was a sick dog. “Will you go do that for me, Mr. Kingaree? You can see he needs his sleep.”

  As the tall man walked out of the parlor Lucinda felt her hands curling into fists. That Needle woman really was a witch in every way! Lucinda had never wanted to hit anyone so much in her life. She was so angry that for a moment she didn’t even notice Ed Stillman shifting and sliding on the hall tree next to her. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “What do you think?” he snarled back. “Ending this charade right now, that’s what I’m doing!”

  In a couple of seconds Stillman had stepped down from the sideboard and headed back down the hall toward the kitchen end, moving much more quickly than she would have guessed of a man near Gideon’s age; by the time she could scramble after him he was gone.

  What’s he going to do? Is he going to shoot somebody? For a moment she hoped the house would defeat him as it did so many newcomers, but then she remembered that Stillman had spent lots of time here when he was younger.

  As Lucinda reached the stairs she heard the creak of the old wooden floorboards-Stillman getting away, or someone approaching? Kingaree? Panicked by indecision, she at last clambered into a broom closet and held the door closed. The footsteps paused near her hiding spot, and for a moment Lucinda heard nothing except the hammering of her heart. Then whoever it was moved on, moving slowly but heavily up the squeaky stairs. When the noise had faded Lucinda poked her head out to make sure the hallway was empty, then scampered for the kitchen. As she stepped through the swinging door she almost knocked over Azinza, the kitchen’s African princess.

  “Lucinda!” The tall woman stepped back, raising her hands in as if to defend herself. “What are you doing here? You are not supposed to be in this house. Go away before she finds you!” Her forehead wrinkled. “How did you get here?”

  “Never mind.” Obviously Azinza hadn’t seen Stillman. Lucinda went up onto her tiptoes to throw her arms around the tall woman and kissed her on the cheek. “Oh, I missed you so much! Pema and Sarah, too!”

  Azinza smiled and started to say something, then stopped, head cocked to one side. “Someone coming. Might be her. You go on now-hurry!”

  Lucinda didn’t argue. She waved to Azinza, then trotted across the kitchen toward the back door. She paused for a moment, startled by thunder, and stared out at the dark ocean of the garden and, though she couldn’t see it, the lonely island that was the ancient greenhouse.

  Never. I’m never going near that place again.

  Something floated to her through the rumble of the storm. It took a moment to realize it was inside her head.

  Frightened! Carrot girl help-frightened!

  In all the frightening time with Stillman she had almost forgotten about the young dragon.

  I’m here, she thought as clearly as she could. Desta, I’m here! I’ll come as soon as I can! But not now, Lucinda told herself. It would be crazy to start across the huge farm in the dark, with no idea of who or what might be out there. No, as guilty as it made her feel, the young dragon would have to wait.

  She made her way instead along the front of the house, in and out past the window boxes, dodging from one sheltering part of the complicated facade to another. She could hear strange animal sounds floating across the distance on the rainy wind and the ground at her feet was boiling with bugs and snakes and even uprooted worms toiling across the ground, heading for the far end of the house as if they had all been invited to some gala party. It was like what she had seen near the greenhouse, but now it was happening here, hundreds of yards away!

  Stop, Lucinda, she reminded herself. One thing at a time. Right now you’ve got Man with Gun, Dangerous Witch, and Brainwashed Gideon-that’s enough to deal with.

  Water drizzled from overflowing roof gutters as she crept from one hiding spot to the next, but for the moment the lightning and thunder had died away. At last she reached the Snake Parlor’s front window and crept up close to peer through a lighter-colored spot near the bottom of the stained-glass window. She could hear voices through the old, thin glass. Mrs. Needle was there, her pale face rigid and expressionless. Dankle the lawyer stood beside her, looking in every way like a grown man who was about to wet his pants. That was because of the third standing figure: it was Ed Stillman, gun in hand and anger plain on his face.

  Stillman was inspecting Gideon Goldring, who looked even worse from this angle, his face like a wax dummy’s, mouth agape and deep-sunken eyes focused on nothing. Lucinda felt a sudden fire of hatred inside her. Patience Needle had done this to him-had turned their great-uncle into this pathetic old thing.

  “What have you been doing to him, woman?” Stillman demanded. “Poisoning him? That seems a bit old-fashioned.”

  “You are a trespasser, sir,” said Mrs. Needle so calmly that if it had been anyone else Lucinda would have admired her courage. “And you have threatened us with a gun. I don’t care who you are, Mr. Stillman, you are now a criminal. And Mr. Dankle here is an officer of the court.”

  The lawyer raised his hands like a man trying to keep friends from disagreeing. “Now, Mrs. Needle, now let’s not… ”

  Stillman laughed. “Then call the police. Go ahead! Dankle, you should know the number.” He looked around. “Nobody in much of a hurry, eh? I thought not. Obviously Gideon’s got something going here that you think is valuable-isn’t that right, my lady? And you thought you’d like to have it for yourself.”

  “See here, Mr. Stillman,” said Dankle, stuttering a little from nervousness, “we’re all civilized folk. Please put the gun down and we’ll talk this out.”

  “Oh, really?” Stillman suddenly turned and pointed the gun right at Barnaby Dankle. “You mean you’re going to tell me the truth about your little double-cross-or is it a triple-cross? Are you cheating her, too? Because you’ve certainly put the screws to your other employers, me and poor old Gideon.”

  “This is… it’s a misunderstanding…!” The lawyer began to back away from him. “You see, it’s… it’s just that… ”

  Lucinda didn’t hear the rest because at that moment something sharp and icy cold pressed against the side of her throat and a hard-callused hand covered her mouth.

  “Don’t make a sound and you might live,” said a quiet but horridly familiar voice. “Well, well, well… who’s this sneaking around in the dark?” Jackson Kingaree’s mouth was so close to Lucinda’s ear she could feel his hot breath. “Didn’t I tell you we’d meet again, little girl? Didn’t I? ”

  Chapter 34

  A Snowball’s Chance

  Colin Needle climbed the ladder from the cavern up into the silo. There were footprints on the dusty floor that he didn’t remember having been there before, and for a moment he froze in fear, but he hadn’t seen anyone in the Fault Line cavern and the silo itself was obviously empty, so he decided he just hadn’t noticed the tracks on his way in.

  Besides, why would anyone be messing around near the Fault Line on a night like this, anyway? The Jenkins kids were gone, Gideon’s sick, and Mr. Walkwell had plenty of work to keep him busy.

  Colin closed and locked the hatch behind him, then slid out of his backpack and set the Continuascope down on top of it to keep the brass he had so carefully buffed and polished from getting scratched again. He reached into the pocket of the jacket he had chosen to wear for his experiment-a far, far heavier garment than what anyone else would be wearing even on a stormy night like this-and took the handkerchief out of his pocket before unwrapping his souvenir.

  There it sat, the symbol of his triumph, glistening in the beam of his flashlight like a Christmas ornament, but it was both far more plain and far m
ore wonderful than any mere decorated glass ball.

  A twenty thousand year old snowball, he thought to himself. But what made the snowball really special was not just it came from the Ice Age, but from at least a day before Tyler Jenkins had entered that snowy world. Colin knew that because he had set the Continuascope carefully, and this time when stepped out of the Fault Line in the same place he had visited in his first experiment, there were no footprints-not his, not Tyler Jenkins’s.

  I made the Continuascope work! Colin wanted to laugh and dance in triumph. I set it and it took me right where and when I wanted it to go! Even old Octavio himself would have had to admit that Colin Needle deserved to be the Continuascope’s new owner!

  But as he stared at the tightly-packed white sphere he saw that the handkerchief darkening around it: the snowball was starting to melt, and that would never do. He meant to keep it in the freezer as a symbol of his conquest of the Continuascope-his first step toward taking his rightful place as the master of Ordinary Farm.

  He wrapped the snowball in his handkerchief once more and placed it carefully back in the pocket of his jacket, then headed up the stairs.

  The rain was pelting down as he left the silo, making his hood bounce above his eyes as he headed back to the house, but beneath his jacket Colin was already sweating-the coat had been good for the Ice Age, but was way too warm for even a rainy summer evening in Standard Valley. Still, he barely noticed. He was already trying to decide where he would go next-or when, more likely, since he had a better grasp on how to set the time coordinates than those that seemed to control location. Would he have to compensate for how the earth changed position over time? That might mean he’d have to create or find some complicated computer program. Of course, if it meant he could travel back to ancient Egypt to see the pyramids built, or to the walls of Troy to watch Achilles fight Hector, it would be worth it.