“But then the manuscript and the cipher were left for you,” he said.
“I don’t know why.” I shuddered again when I remembered what else Old Woman told me. “She also spoke of a legend about a woman who was exiled and escaped a war.”
Nikolas held the scar on his hand as if it hurt. “Anyone else who heard this would think you’ve lost your mind. But I don’t. I’m not surprised.”
I waited.
“Remember the night we met?” he asked.
“Of course. When I first saw you, I thought your eyes were the color of myth”—I watched Nikolas smile, as if touched—“and you invited me to play and took me to hide in the meeting chamber.”
“Before then. I saw you, so small, so silent, there under the shadow of those adults, Fewmany and your parents, and I walked up and said to them you kept a secret.”
“Yes. That’s when I knew my name, beyond what I was given.”
“You never told me that. Well, what I said then—I didn’t understand why I said it, only that I must.” He paused. “Among my many attributes, it appears I am prescient.”
I laughed. I wanted to touch him, but a familiar hesitancy rose up. This wasn’t the first time I’d felt like a beaten dog who fears the tenderness she wants because the moment could cruelly turn. As I tried to force my reach for him, he wrapped his hand on top of mine. I leaned to rest my cheek on his shoulder.
“Whatever is to come, I will not fail you,” he said. I nodded. Where the queen bee had stung me, he kissed my brow as if he’d sealed a promise.
WHEN I RETURNED TO MY apartment, the eighth of May, nothing looked disturbed. Placed on my table was a note from Margana, who had tried to deliver my costume and banquet gown and had returned them to her shop for safekeeping. The windows were closed. The stove’s ashes hadn’t been cleaned. The cipher and the manuscript were where I left them.
Those two items, and my diary, I stuffed into my satchel, intending to store them in the safest place I knew.
I walked through the northwest wards and along the edge of town. In the distance, I saw the wall’s low rise and avoided the construction as I crossed the green and stepped into the woods.
Cyril the Squirrel, once red, now gray, too old to be alive, was there waiting. He led me to a friend I hadn’t seen in so long, the great tree with the spiraling trunk—Reach. He greeted me with a low drone, which hummed in my feet. As it had always been, his voice was too deep for me to understand, but I sensed what he conveyed.
I’ve missed you, too, I said without saying.
I continued on, finding the path which led to the glade, and crossed through to the garden beds, filled with vegetables. I could hear the random noises and smell hints of the sheep, goats, and hens kept near the cottage. When I looked toward the door, Old Woman stepped out, tying a blue kerchief over her white hair.
“Secret,” she said as she took me in her arms.
“I’m sorry,” I said, holding back tears.
“All is forgiven. If you’re here now, something has happened. Come in,” she said.
We sat at her table. I looked toward the hearth. The symbol carved in stone was clearly visible.
“From where do you come—the true home you left?” I asked in the ancient language of the fever and the manuscript, which by then I suspected was spoken by the Guardians.
“First, how did the tongue come to you?” Old Woman asked, speaking it back to me.
“The fever years ago, and the manuscript is written in it.” I took the arcane manuscript from my satchel. “It’s the one my mother was asked to translate. I broke the cipher she left. I can read it now.”
“So, there was an early written form of our language, as we were told in our legends. You have it there. Incredible. To your question, well, I wasn’t specific when you were a child. You knew I came from a village outside of Ailliath, and what my life was like there, but I didn’t divulge fully. Do you remember the myths I told you?”
I nodded.
“Then you’ll recall Egnis the Red Dragon found a child in a river. She roused the infant back to life with her fiery breath, and with Ingot the Gold Dwarf and Incant the White Wisp, raised the child they called Azul. When the Orphan came of age, determined to join their humankind, Azul made friends and built villages throughout the known world where people could live in cooperation and peace. They declared themselves the Guardians, who vowed to protect the Red Dragon and all she surveyed.
“I am a descendant, born and raised in one of the few surviving settlements. One of the few, because many generations before, the people split in their opinions about the way they lived. There were those who believed our settlements should be insular, everyone keeping only among themselves. The rest believed others should be welcome to live among them or that the Guardians should go out to share their ways. In time, it was said, the outsiders who were allowed in brought trouble and those who left the settlements were drawn into the troubled world.
“Then, slowly, between that and many wars, the settlements disappeared, and the ones that endured became islands among themselves.
“In spite of this, some traditions remained. Since the founding of the first settlements, Guardian elders were asked to go within themselves and see if they were called to serve beyond our hidden borders. They were needed to give safety and comfort to those who were lost and searching, and later to watch for the children to come, the ones foretold.
“And here we are,” Old Woman said. “I’m sure you want to know what is about to happen, but I can’t tell you. I’m here to give you guidance and haven. Everything is known, but not revealed to one and all.”
“Possibly, the manuscript will help,” I said. I told her I’d read the first few pages, then repeated everything I’d told Nikolas about the manuscript, the language that came with the fever, the dreams and ruptures. “There’s one other thing I must tell you. What you said about Fewmany—that he was buying land and taking any symbols he found, but no one knew why?”
She nodded.
“He wants the hoard. The dragon’s treasure.”
“Why does he think the symbol has a connection to it?” she asked.
“It doesn’t?”
“What did he tell you?”
I repeated the story he told me about the old woman who found him in the woods, how he’d tried to follow the symbols and was caught before he could trace where they led.
Old Woman rested her forehead in her hands. “She meant to guide him to a settlement, not to riches like gold. Oh, we take that risk so rarely. She sensed something about him, about how dire matters were for him.”
I felt a shadow of fate turn its heel on the boy Lesmore Bellwether, but my compassion didn’t eclipse my anger at the man he became. “What about the symbol?”
“It connects to the realm, where there is a treasure, but the way is indirect,” Old Woman said.
“So, the treasure mentioned in the myths—it’s real.”
“Both in the literal and figurative senses, yes.”
“And does a dragon guard it?”
“Gold has value only to humans.”
“That’s not an answer to my question. Is it protected?”
“My people are protecting her, not the treasure. There are Guardians who remain alert to signs of trouble. They can’t live in the realm, but they can cross into it, and if the boundary is breached, they respond. We believe if there was any attempt to injure or kill her, the consequences would be catastrophic. As the myths tell us, ‘All would dry in endless light or all would rot in endless dark,’ ” she said.
“It’s a myth. A fragment of truth shrouded in a story.”
Old Woman looked at me for a long moment. “Well, you may soon be called to find out what that truth is.”
AS SCHEDULED, I RETURNED TO the library on the eleventh of May. When I entered the manor, there were no signs of the ball, and the usual doors were locked when I checked them.
On the table was a letter from Fewmany, who
was away on a trip and hoped I was feeling well and asked to see me for dinner one week hence. I wrote a short reply to accept the invitation and belatedly thank him for the storybook.
Naughton served morning tea with his typical formality.
“I haven’t discussed this with him yet, but I’m going away soon,” I said as he poured a cup near my hand.
“Taken my heed?”
“I will say your advisement is duly noted.”
“Very good, Miss,” he said.
In the days which followed, Old Woman promised to give me shelter if I chose to go into hiding. Father, who poured forth the historical minutiae of the “endeavor” with which he’d been involved, was curious to learn how my help would advance, as he put it, “the acquisition.” Nikolas, who by then knew what was asked of me, wished I could remove myself from any involvement but understood I couldn’t do so without danger.
“You must trust me to figure this out. I must engage with him, but with guile,” I said.
“That isn’t in your nature,” Nikolas said.
“You’d be surprised what’s in my nature,” I replied.
Understand this, descendants and survivors: My outward calm was a veneer. Even though the task was inevitable, I couldn’t bring myself to read another word of the arcane manuscript out of fear of what would be revealed. I knew to refuse Fewmany’s request would have imperiled me and possibly my father, considering the knowledge we both possessed. Regardless of my protective feelings, I contained a growing anger toward Father for what he’d done to allow, even encourage, Fewmany’s interest in me.
And what of that interest? How confused I was, questioning whether Fewmany’s regard for me had been genuine or a ruse, and in light of that, wondering if my once dark instincts about him had been enchanted away.
The evening we met for dinner, Fewmany’s spirits soared high. I was careful to give no impression anything was different between us. We didn’t discuss our business until we were alone, in the map room, as I requested.
With glasses of wine in hand, we stood over a large map on which he’d plotted each location where a symbol had been taken, those where it was likely stones were placed, and others that were still speculative. I remembered seeing maps in Father’s study similarly dotted, but I had no idea what was marked. The reach extended through more than twenty kingdoms, heavily in those closest to Ailliath. I saw Geo-Archeo Historian Bren Riven’s influence then; the concentration was to the north and east where The Mapmaker’s War had spread more than a thousand years before.
Fewmany said he’d provide several maps to remote locations, places not yet explored but where he was certain stones had been placed. If I found an old woman, but she wouldn’t divulge information, I was to travel onward.
He planned to send me out with a group of trusted men, for protection and to attend my accommodations, but that I protested. I believed it would be better for me to go alone. There might be less notice if I traveled as a young woman going to visit my grandmother—the story I planned to use—than a woman on a journey with men, to whom she had no relation. On this point, he was reluctant, which I sensed was not a matter of trust but insurance. I had value. My loss might cost him his prize.
It was agreed I’d receive an allowance for travel and write if I needed more. He expected I’d keep him apprised of my whereabouts but be cautious to conceal my purpose. When he asked how soon I could depart, I determined within three weeks, which would allow me to move from my apartment and tend my preparations. At that moment, Fewmany gave me leave. I need not worry about the library until I came home again.
He extinguished the lamp. I took our glasses, drinking the last drop from mine. We walked out through the hidden door, which he locked, and crossed the library.
All I have to do is give him what he wants, and this is mine, I thought. If I find it. When.
But I understood the task I agreed to do for him was part of a greater call I could no longer avoid. I felt no peace in this, only the dread of a reckoning.
I set the glasses on the table and brushed my hand along the surface. That I would be leaving struck me with a piercing sadness.
“That seat is yours when you return. The manor will be empty without you, Secret,” he said.
I nodded. He pulled the bell, opened the door, and walked downstairs with me. Mutt greeted us in the hall. I scratched his head. He licked my fingers and said, You will not be alone. It is known who you are.
At the door, I reached into my pocket for the key, but Fewmany had already unlocked it with his. Reluctantly I held out mine. “I won’t need this,” I said.
He took it from my hand. “With thanks.”
“I expect to see you at the banquet, so let us delay our farewell,” I said.
“Good night, then, my keeper of tales, my seeker of treasure,” he said. He closed the door behind me with a bow.
Moments later, the carriage arrived with Naughton standing on the tailboard. He had never done something like this. He helped me to my seat and held the door’s handle for a long moment.
“Thank you, Naughton,” I said.
“In your service, Miss. He said you will be away for some time. Be watchful while greater forces guard and guide you.”
“I didn’t know you were superstitious,” I said.
“I’m not.” He took the cravat from his neck and gave it to me, then shut me inside.
When the carriage entered town, I held the cloth toward the street’s lamplight. The silk was a certain shade of blue.
DIARY ENTRY 23 MAY /37
As of today, my post service cubby is closed. Personal belongings (diary, some books, old drawings, some clothing, shoes, the carved stag, the ingots, my own silver) are stored with Old Woman. A few other things I’ve moved to Father’s, but the rest I’m giving away. Jane Sheepshank and Dora Thursdale were glad to have the table, bench, and dishes. Mrs. Woodman took the wardrobe. The Misses Acutt delighted in the prints on my wall and invited me to help hang them, which required rearranging several paintings and embroidered pieces. Mrs. Elgin wants the bed for the children.
This afternoon, I gave Julia four illustrated books and the carved blue bird. She was so overcome, she threw her arms around me and kissed my cheek. I’d never held a child before. I will miss her when I’m away.
Although I’d prefer to stay with Old Woman until I leave, it’s better I spend the days before my departure at Father’s. Nights, to be precise. It is strange to sleep in the spare room, which was always closed off, waiting for no one.
My days I spend walking in the woods with Cyril. I have become soft and my sensitivities are blunted. I will require all my strengths for what’s ahead.
And I broke my spectacles. On purpose. I must also see clearly again.
JUNE /37
THE EVENING OF NIKOLAS’S DEPARTURE banquet, the sixth of June, Father and I stood at the front door waiting for the carriage. I thought of the moments before the summer grand ball long ago, how I watched my mother preen him and how happy I thought others might assume us to be.
Father grinned. “I’d almost forgotten the true colors of your eyes. I find myself focusing from one to the other like a stranger.”
“You look handsome,” I said. “But for the ring, you appear to be an eligible swain.”
He hid his left hand behind his right. A whiff of perfume irritated my nose. A clatter and clop slowed on the street outside.
“The carriage is here,” he said.
At the castle, in the Great Hall, we made our way into the crowd. Father stopped to greet acquaintances every few steps. I waved to former classmates I recognized, then bolted from him when I saw two friendly faces.
“Charlotte! Muriel!” I called above the murmuring clusters. They approached with smiles, both dressed in stylish gowns.
“The silver is gone,” Charlotte said.
“Has it grown black again?” Muriel asked.
“Hidden, is all. I didn’t know you were attending,” I said.
>
“The conservatory allowed me leave for the occasion,” Muriel said.
“I decided to return home a bit sooner to attend wedding preparations. You’ll receive your invitation any day now,” Charlotte said.
I knew I’d be far away then, but I decided not to say so. They would get letters explaining I was sent away on a matter for the library. “How wonderful, Charlotte. I hope you’re very happy.”
A fanfare of gleaming horns announced the ceremony’s start. A voice called us to find our seats and reminded those with Tell-a-Bells to switch them to silence. My friends and I parted. Father waved at me from the front row below the dais. Several yards away, Fewmany shook hands with a man who must have been a king. Something had been opened or sealed between them; I could tell by the pleased expression on Fewmany’s face.
I paused. Two years prior, I sat across from him in his office, the blind menagerie behind me, fear viscous in my blood, curiosity thicker. I had no material power like noblemen and magnates, but an intangible one he sensed, he stalked, he seized.
What might he own with the wealth a treasure as great as a dragon’s hoard could bring?
As I stood there, my eyes fixed on him until he looked at me and smiled, I couldn’t deny my affection. Impossibly, I considered that man a friend, and I hated him for it.
Once the audience was seated, there was a procession of dignitaries and attendants, dressed and coiffed almost as finely as they would be for a coronation. Nikolas’s sisters, Pretty and Charming, along with their children and husbands, placed themselves in front of cushioned chairs. The King and the Queen wore bejeweled crowns and purple velvet robes. Their faces alit with pride when they saw the last man walk across the dais.
The Plague Diaries Page 15
