by Jeff Wheeler
“Go on in, miss!” called one of the workers, waving her forward. “No one will come.”
That was a shock. She’d never visited such a manor before without a crowd of servants attending it. She looked at the iron handle and, after the encouragement from the laborer, twisted it and pushed.
The inside was dark and frigid and smelled of candle smoke. As soon as she saw the dark corridor, she sensed the presence of the Myriad Ones. She’d once thought them ghosts but had learned more about their true nature from the Test at Muirwood. They were not the ghosts of once-living folk but were instead beings of twisted evil. There was the usual telltale prickle on the back of her neck, the buzzing noise in her ears. She felt the malevolence of their thoughts as they saw her standing in the doorway, letting in the accursed light. A throb of fear started deep inside her gut, but she controlled it. The maston chain beneath her bodice lent her strength. She’d never taken it off, not once, since receiving it at Muirwood Abbey.
In her mind, she summoned light from the Leerings in the corridor. They resisted her thoughts, almost resentfully. But they did ultimately obey, and light began to glimmer in the carved stone eyes of the faces cut from the stone. The entire length of the corridor became illuminated, showing the dark splotches of mold stains on some of the walls. The light exposed cobwebs in the corners and even a scurrying rat, which promptly fled back into a crack in the wall. The light brought a hissing sound as the Myriad Ones retreated into the shadows.
“Hello?” Cettie called and heard her voice echo.
She left the door open behind her as she ventured in a few steps. The natural daylight streaming in behind her was comforting. Her apprehension intensified with each step. She was an intruder. She didn’t belong. The dark thoughts hammered against her mind, but she recognized the source. The steward had downplayed the situation; the grounds were infested with Myriad Ones.
She made her way to the ballroom, which she remembered from her previous visit. After realizing she was shivering, and not just from fear, she invoked the manor’s Heat Leerings, bringing waves of heat from the stones.
“Mr. Batewinch?” Cettie called out once she was deeper inside.
There was no answer, so she went to the nearest Leering and touched it, using it to search the rooms. She found Mr. Batewinch in the kitchen, slumped in a chair and snoring, some half-eaten food still on a plate in front of him. Knowing where to find the kitchen, she hurried in that direction. One of the door’s hinges was broken, and when she entered the room, she saw his jaw was swollen and blood was coming from his mouth.
“Mr. Batewinch?” she asked in concern as she hurried to him.
He awoke with a start at her voice. A candle had burned out on the table, leaving a huge puddle of wax on the candlestick. It surprised Cettie that Miss Patchett would have left him in such a condition without assistance.
“Mmmfgh,” he groaned, coming awake. He was still wearing the same clothes she’d seen him in the night before. He winced and touched the edge of his mouth gingerly.
Cettie crouched by his chair and looked up into his bloodshot eyes. “You are not well, Mr. Batewinch. Should I send for a doctor?”
He leaned forward in the chair, groaning. “No, that w-won’t be necessary.” He groaned again and massaged his injured cheek. Cettie noticed a bloody molar on the table next to the plate, and her eyes widened in shock.
“Did Mr. Patchett hit you?” she asked in a low voice.
“Miss Cettie, please. Do not concern yourself. I’m grateful you came.” His words were a bit slurred, and he seemed to be testing the inside of his mouth with his tongue. “I see you got the Leerings working already. There’s light and warmth again. Excellent.”
“Where are your servants?” she asked him in concern.
“They already quit. It wasn’t . . . the sort of job . . . anyway. It will all come to order. First, we must regain control of the house. I have the keeper’s key.” He touched his breast pocket in concern, and then a relieved look surfaced on his face. Dipping his fingers into the pocket, he pulled it out. Then he struggled to his feet, and Cettie hurried to help him rise.
“Thank you, ma’am.” He winced with soreness and straightened himself. “All is well. All is well. Only the confounded Leerings keep shutting off. Especially at night, when they’re needed most.”
“Are Randall and Joanna mastons?” Cettie asked, following him as he left the kitchen.
“He is. She didn’t pass the Test, and that was a condition in the father’s will. We still have a household to maintain back in Pry-Ree. It’s going to take some work and no small expense to get this place inhabitable again. But we’ll do it. I’ve no doubt on that score. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry I wasn’t in a state to receive you.”
“Mr. Batewinch, it’s against the law to strike a man except in extraordinary circumstances,” Cettie said.
“I know . . . I know. Don’t worry yourself. All will be made right.”
Cettie wasn’t sure that was true. But she followed him to the door that protected the estate’s Control Leering. He slipped the key into the lock and turned it. After he pushed open the door, the Control Leering came into view—already lit up from Cettie’s previous commands. They went inside, and she immediately felt the Leering reaching out to her. It seemed almost relieved she was there.
“I’ve invoked it before,” Batewinch said. “And it cooperates. But then something always turns it off. The door is locked whenever I check on it, and I’m the only one with the key. I can’t make any sense out of it, but then again, I’m not a keeper. Can you make sense of it, Miss Cettie?”
The Leering was in the shape of a smiling woman, which felt incongruous in the musty, haunted manor. Cettie laid one hand on it and one hand on Mr. Batewinch’s shoulder. She would be the conduit between them. Immediately, all the Leerings in the manor came to life, and she heard the magic within them begin to thrum. It was like beautiful music to her. She listened closely to it, trying to detect a discordant tone. There was nothing off. The magic was working just as it should.
“Well,” said Mr. Batewinch, glancing around the room in surprise. “I’ve not seen it react this strongly since I’ve been here. You have the right touch, ma’am. Is there anything wrong with it?”
Cettie let go of him and kept listening to the magic, trying to sense if there was anything amiss. She still felt nothing out of place.
“It seems proper to me,” she replied, letting go of the Leering. “It wants to obey. And this is the right key. The connection between them is strong.”
“Perhaps it is the many years of neglect,” he said with a shrug. “Thank you for taking the time, Miss Cettie. I’m obliged to you. If you can recommend any keepers in need of work, I’d be further obliged. I’d offer to feed you a meal, but I’m no cook.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Cettie said, anxious to get back to Fog Willows.
As they departed the room, she was startled to find Randall Patchett leaning against the corridor wall. He looked haggard and morose. His collar was undone, his shirt partially open to the point that she saw the thin strand of his chain around his neck. His shirtsleeves were bunched up to his elbows, his muscular arms folded.
Their eyes met, and Cettie felt an instinctive stab of fear.
“Oh,” he said, calmer than the night before. More melancholy. “I didn’t know we had guests.”
“I invited her,” said Batewinch as he emerged next. He locked the door behind him. “She’s gotten the Leerings working again.”
Rand stepped away from the wall. “Thank you, Miss . . . ? I’m sorry, I don’t remember from yesterday.”
“It’s Miss Cettie,” said Batewinch with a grumble.
“That’s right. Thank you for your help.” Then he looked at Batewinch, and Cettie could see the naked shame and sorrow in his eyes. “Batewinch, I’m—”
“Not now,” said the steward gruffly, cutting him off. There was another noise, the soft sound of footstep
s, and Joanna appeared, still wearing a nightdress and shawl. She, too, looked like she hadn’t slept much.
“I heard voices,” she said worriedly, but when she saw Cettie, a look of relief came to her face. “Oh,” she said with greater ease. “It’s you. Thank you, Cettie. Thank you for coming. We’re not in much state for visitors right now, are we? I’m sorry. If I’d known you were here, I would have dressed.”
“It’s quite all right,” Cettie said, anxious to be gone.
“Rand?” Joanna said, her voice twisting with concern. She went up to him, her fingers grazing his neck. Cettie saw a series of purple marks she’d not noticed earlier; she’d looked away too quickly.
He seized his sister’s wrists, not roughly, but he pulled her away and shook his head. Joanna’s expression crumpled, and she started to weep.
Mr. Batewinch gestured for Cettie to follow him and took her down the hall toward the still-open front doors. Cettie fell in behind him, but she glanced back and saw Rand put a comforting arm around his sister’s shoulder and press his chin against her hair. She shuddered as she cried.
Batewinch escorted Cettie to the door, his face grim with suppressed emotions. She was only too grateful to depart.
Before she left, however, Mr. Batewinch called her name. She paused on the threshold and turned around, feeling the cool wind brush through her hair. She hadn’t realized how warm she’d become once the Leerings were working again.
“Don’t judge us too harshly, ma’am,” he said in an apologetic way. “The lad’s always been . . . a brooding child. The Myriad Ones are attracted to him more than most. He . . . he sees them, miss. Even more so now. Have some pity. Don’t call the Law in. If we need to, I will do it. I promise you that.”
Cettie looked into his eyes, felt his sincerity and the misery of the situation. His words affected her more than he knew. And her sympathy for the Patchetts changed the way she looked at them.
CHAPTER TEN
DECEPTION ABOUNDS
Cettie read over the letter she’d written to Sera a final time and was satisfied. She had described her encounters with the Patchetts and asked if Sera had truly met Joanna at Pavenham Sky. She’d shared, as well, her experience at Gimmerton Sough and the news of how it had fallen so far into disrepair.
If only the Lawtons had allowed the Hardings back. Well, what was done was done, and Lady Corinne certainly wasn’t known for a reputation of compassion.
Cettie folded the letter and placed a stub of wax on the folded side. She then pressed her small stone signet Leering against the wax and invoked it, causing a ripple of heat that melted the wax and sealed the letter with her fancy-scripted initials CS—Cettie Saeed. She turned the miniature Leering over and gazed at it with fondness. It was a gift from Fitzroy.
Cettie left the study and brought the letter to Mr. Kinross, who would see that it went out with the post later in the day. It would probably be returned, as they all had been, without being opened, but Cettie didn’t give up hope that someday the lady of the manor would relent and allow Sera to read messages from her friends. Maybe the thaw was already starting to happen. She could hope so at least.
As the keeper of Fog Willows, Cettie had an array of tasks to complete each day. There were the storm-glass readings to assemble from the various stations, accounts to go through, and correspondence to reply to. Many times in the afternoons—such as this particular one—she’d go on walks with Anna, and they’d reminisce about the past or talk about Anna’s favorite topic—her feelings about Adam Creigh. Cettie never brought up that particular subject herself, for she was always conflicted about her own feelings for him.
“I miss seeing Raj Sarin about,” Anna said wistfully as they neared the old gazebo where Cettie had received her first lessons in the Way of Ice and Shadows. “Every time we come here, I expect to see him practicing his fighting style. I’m glad he’s with Father, of course. I guess I miss them both.”
“I miss him as well,” Cettie said. “It’s strange to think that he came from another world and chose to live in ours.”
“Is it so strange?” Anna asked. “I couldn’t imagine wanting to live anywhere else. Remember what we learned about Kingfountain at school? How if someone desecrates one of their fountains, they’re thrown into the river by the falls? I shudder to think of it.”
“That would be terrifying,” Cettie agreed, “unless you were Raj Sarin. Being thrown into a waterfall isn’t so terrifying if you can float. There are so many wonders in the universe. I doubt we’ll ever learn them all.”
“Sera met the Prince of Kingfountain, didn’t she? Before the scandal, I mean.”
“A scandal that was made too much of,” Cettie answered, shaking her head. “Sera always thought that the Minister of War was on her side. Until he betrayed her. Her biggest mistake was trusting the wrong people. Sometimes I wonder if I should have gone with Sera to Lockhaven. If I could have helped prevent this from happening.”
“Sera was always pretty headstrong. We all admired her for it. But it did get her into trouble in the end.” Anna sighed. “I see the storm clouds to the north. You say they’re going to move to the east? It’s amazing what you can do with the storm glasses.”
“I don’t know what force causes them to move,” Cettie said. “But we can see the results of it. And they are predictable. They follow laws with perfect obedience.”
They walked past the gazebo, enjoying the breeze and the cool air and each other’s companionship.
Cettie was about to suggest they head back to the manor when Anna said, “Cettie, can I ask you about something?”
Something about the tone of her voice made Cettie wary. “Of course you can.”
Anna was quiet for a long while, staring down at the ground. “I hesitate to bring it up. I thought . . . I don’t know. I suppose I wanted you to.”
The wariness turned into a heavy rock in the pit of her stomach. Now she wished she had suggested going back.
“It’s something Stephen told me,” Anna went on, glancing at Cettie’s face, trying to judge her reaction. Cettie felt her cheeks begin to flame. Yes, of course Stephen had said something. Hadn’t she guessed he would?
A tree branch cracked behind them, and they both paused and turned back. Joses bounded up the trail toward them, his hurry immediately catching their attention.
“Something’s wrong,” Anna said in concern. The uncomfortable topic forgotten for the moment, they both hurried back down the path and met him as he rushed up to them, out of breath. He paused, hands on knees, to rest and gave Anna a furtive glance.
“What is it, Joses?” Cettie asked in alarm.
He was still trying to breathe, but he held out a note. In a moment of pure panic, Cettie worried Adam had written to her again and she’d have to read the note right in front of Anna.
“P-pardon,” he gasped. “Don’t m-mean to make you worry. Hello, Anna. It’s just . . . the zephyr is w-waiting for a response. Mr. . . . Mr. Kinross said to get you right away, Cettie.”
Cettie took the note from him at once. She recognized the writing as one of Father’s stewards, the man who did his business in the City, Mr. James. She broke the seal of the note.
Miss Cettie,
I’m writing in haste to see if you’ve received word on the missing shipment of quicksilver from Dolcoath. The cargo was supposed to be delivered to the customer three days ago, and no word has come from Master Stephen. We have never had a late shipment before. I’ve sent word by zephyr to the mines and heard nothing back, so I thought I’d take the liberty of asking for your help and any news you may have. I’ve instructed the pilot to wait for your reply.
Sincerely,
Mr. James
“What is it?” Anna asked with a tone of fear. “You’re so pale.”
“I must go,” Cettie said with grim determination.
“I’ll walk her back,” Joses volunteered.
“We can hurry back together,” Cettie said firmly. “I need to check t
he business ledgers first.”
Stephen was in the sitting room, as he usually was in the afternoons, playing a round of dominion with Phinia and Malcolm. He was lounging in his chair, the cards in his hand, and looked utterly bored. When Cettie arrived, he gave her a casual look and then focused back on the game.
“Stephen, may I speak with you?” Cettie asked, approaching him.
“If you’re going to scold me about something, I’d rather you didn’t.” He set down three cards with a smug smile, and Phinia gasped. Malcolm chuckled, and his wife swatted his arm.
“We need to talk at once,” Cettie insisted.
Stephen gave her an annoyed look. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a game?”
Anna had followed them into the sitting room. “Stephen, it’s important.”
He slapped the cards down on the table and rose from the stuffed chair. “Very well! You have my attention. What is it?”
“Not in here,” Cettie said, gesturing to the room. “Come to the study.”
Stephen sighed again in exasperation and followed her into Fitzroy’s study. He wrinkled his nose when they entered. “I hate the smell of this room,” he muttered. Cettie had always thought the burnt-metal smell interesting. “Well? What is it? You want me to go? Is that what this is about? I’ve been here a few days, and you’re ready to be rid of me?”
She handed Mr. James’s note to him.
“What’s this?” He opened the paper and quickly scanned the contents. His eyes bulged, and his cheeks flushed.
“Stephen, who did you leave in charge of the mines?”
He stared at the paper, his hand starting to quiver. “By the Mysteries, this can’t be!”
“Who did you leave in charge of the mines? I checked the ledgers before seeing you, and the customer’s payment hasn’t been signed over yet. Now answer me. Who did you leave in charge of the mines?”
