Evenmere (The Evenmere Chronicles Book 3)

by Stoddard, James

  the winding stair. From there they journeyed east along the

  steppes.

  When they were within an hour of Lowing Hall, where

  Duskin and Lizbeth kept their residence, they were forced to

  part company since Carter and Jonathan would be traveling

  farther east.

  “I regret we can’t come with you,” Duskin replied, “but

  we’ll do what we can here.”

  Carter gave his brother a hug, and in so doing, found

  himself unexpectedly emotional, as if he were deserting him.

  Blinking back tears, he embraced Lizbeth, then he and

  Jonathan set off again across the steppes.

  At five o’clock that afternoon they passed out of North

  Lowing and entered the winding corridors of the Uffolloff

  Heights, a portion of the house built across a range of small

  mountains. They journeyed an hour along the corridors called

  the Toes, a wavering north-south passage lying at the

  mountains’ feet, and soon began their ascent, along corridors

  angling from side to side to avoid becoming too steep. Where

  sharp inclines were unavoidable, stairs had been built. Blue

  molding with crenelated borders covered the walls; Prussian-

  blue carpet sheathed the floors; Nottingham lace adorned the

  windows. Hundreds of portraits of the founders and heroes of

  the Heights peered through the gloom, their eyes yellowed

  with age.

  The gradual slope of the passages, after the earlier descent

  from the Astronomy Tower, left the travelers aching. They

  spent the night in one of the quaint Victorian drawing rooms

  scattered along the corridor. Wanstead sofas served as beds,

  and the fireplace box had plenty of wood for a cheery blaze.

  They dined on bread and cheese. Distrusting Armilus,

  Carter wanted to check on Jason, but had a little time before he

  must go. When they had sat in silence awhile before the

  flickering fire, Lord Anderson sighed.

  “What is the young Master thinking?” Jonathan asked.

  “Mostly that I don’t feel that young anymore.” He smiled.

  “Actually, I was thinking that if not for Armilus and the Poetry

  Men, this would be a grand adventure. I am forever fascinated

  by the winding halls of Evenmere, the endless corridors, the

  uncountable stairs. One would think I would weary of it, but I

  never do. It’s like tramping in a forest, where every turn brings

  a new vista: here a gnarled cabinet hoary as a man, there a

  weathered statue faded by the sun, a stream, a rock formation

  grinning like a ghost—that is Evenmere. As if I were on a

  treasure hunt.”

  “I am sure the house appreciates your appreciation,”

  Jonathan said.

  Carter laughed. “Enoch puts it the same way, talking about

  it as if it were alive. It does feel like that sometimes. He says it

  wasn’t always Victorian architecture, but has changed over the

  ages. Are you old enough to remember that?”

  “A house old as time would change. Think of what it has

  seen. So many wonderful lives, so many exquisite souls. No

  one should be surprised if it takes on a life of its own. Or was

  alive from the beginning. There is a very old story about

  Evenmere, you know. It tells how, when the house first came

  into existence, it stood in a great silence, in a universe without

  planets or suns or any other thing, filled with nothing but

  diffused light passing through gray mist. No ground existed

  beneath the mansion, only that mist in every direction.

  Evenmere did not know who had built it; it did not know to

  even ask the question. It dwelt, the only dwelling in that

  emptiness, for an unknown length of time.

  “One day, the clocks scattered through the mansion started

  ticking, so Evenmere knew Time had begun its great race.

  Outside, the rain began to fall. The house felt the earth form

  beneath it, pebble by pebble, until its foundations stood on

  solid ground. The rain made ponds and lakes and mighty

  oceans in the low places, and the waters came pouring over its

  verandas, passing through its doorways, cutting channels

  within the house, streaming down what would become the

  Fable River.

  “In the place we now call the Tower of Astronomy, lights

  appeared as clouds of gas. They coalesced, becoming glowing

  stars. The mists cleared. Evenmere stood upon a world, on a

  plain covered in waving grass, the buttery light of the sun

  overhead.

  “With the waters came life. Fish appeared in Evenmere’s

  rivers. Animals rose along the bank. And one day, long after, a

  boat slipped down the Fable. Within it, dressed in gray and

  gold and green and scarlet, were the First Ones, men and

  women young and beautiful as the sunlight shining in

  Evenmere’s eaves. The High House watched with interest

  these new people inhabiting its halls, but though it understood

  their tongues, it had no way to speak to them. Nonetheless,

  working subtly, it showed them how to work the mechanisms

  of the house. They learned that doing so enabled them to keep

  the universe in order, and that became the mission of their

  lives.

  “With everything running well, Evenmere rejoiced to be

  alive, listening to its ticking clocks, watching the burning stars

  surrounding the Astronomy Towers, hearing the ghosts play in

  the Room of Horrors, observing the shadows creep from the

  Valley of Shadow. Other people drifted in through its doors.

  “But as is the way with people everywhere, as more folks

  entered its portals things became complicated. Some opposed

  those who ran the mechanisms of the house. This confused

  Evenmere. And so, again working in silence, it created the

  position of Head Servant, to coordinate the work of the other

  servants. Eventually, those who followed that servant came to

  call him the Master.

  “Since that time, the house has struggled to keep the

  Balance against those who would undermine it.”

  As if in answer to Jonathan’s tale, the floorboards, settling

  for the night, gave a comforting creak.

  “A lovely story, though flawed,” Carter said. “If the house

  couldn’t speak, it could never reveal what it saw in the

  beginning. But imagine the things it would tell us if it could.

  These old boards …” He glanced at the pictures on the wall of

  landscapes and wide-eyed children. “The first question I

  would ask is why so much of it is empty. Why so many

  unoccupied chambers?”

  Jonathan took a sip of tea from his tin cup. “That is a good

  question. My answer is if the house is nearly infinite, it is too

  enormous to be filled.”

  Carter laughed. “Nearly infinite ; there’s an impossible turn

  of phrase. You are probably more widely traveled than anyone.

  Do you really think it endless?”

  “Not endless, but very large. The universe itself has an

  end, Master Anderson, and what lies beyond it, who can say?

  Perhaps other universes. Perhaps universe after universe

  sitting on long shelves like blue marbles.
But if Evenmere

  represents the universe, why should it not be mostly empty of

  life, as is the universe itself? Think of the distances between

  the stars. Living creatures make up but a small part. So too the

  house. But do not think, because the distances are great and

  men small, that size is relevant. No! A great whale is many

  times larger than a human, yet humanity rules the world. So

  too the size of the universe humbles us, as when we stare out

  of the Tower of Astronomy at the hanging stars. But the

  human spirit, when grounded in compassion, can be large as

  Leviathan.”

  “Yet many are mean-spirited,” Carter said, “and life plays

  cruel tricks that sometimes leave us bitter.”

  “Children have the greatest souls, if they are raised with

  love, for they have faith in the wonder and mystery of the

  world. Adults must remember that and find it anew.

  Eventually, all secrets are revealed.”

  Carter chuckled. “It seems to me many things in my life

  remain hidden, and Evenmere has a million secrets. Are you

  still angry with me for making a truce with Armilus?”

  Jonathan was silent for so long Carter grew uncomfortable.

  “Anger is for a single moment, Master Anderson. It hasn’t any

  good use thereafter. I am worried, but what is done is done.

  We must concentrate on finding Professor Shoemate and

  learning the source of the Poetry Men’s power. Finding it, we

  must somehow put an end to it. It is a desperate course,

  requiring all our strength and mind.”

  At the appointed hour, Carter walked once more in the

  land of slumber. The Word Which Brings Aid summoned Mr.

  Hope, and Carter grimaced, for he had hoped for Sarah, who

  would have been more understanding of his agreement with

  Armilus.

  After Carter related the news and told of the battle, Mr.

  Hope sat down in the rocking chair in Jason’s room, lips

  pursed, his round face a mask, and did not speak for so long

  Carter finally burst out, “Well, say it and get it over with!”

  “Sorry,” Hope said. “It’s a lot to absorb. Messengers

  reached us this evening about the fight, but the details were

  lacking.”

  “Are you appalled?”

  Hope raised his eyebrows. “Appalled? No. Your actions

  were justified. Concerned.”

  “Jonathan said the same thing. What are you thinking?”

  “Too many thoughts at once. Given your weariness, your

  need to protect Jason, and the threat to the Astronomy Tower,

  you did what you thought best; but one can be logical, correct

  even, and still take the wrong path. You have bound yourself

  to a nebulous promise not to interfere with the anarchists

  unless they present a danger to the house. More concrete terms

  would have been better.”

  “Do you believe he will honor our bargain?”

  Hope’s brow unfurrowed. “I actually think he may. I have

  been researching Doctor Benjamin Armilus, who has proven

  to be a fascinating character. His mother died when he was

  fourteen, killed by a thief in their home. His father became

  interested in the anarchy party shortly thereafter, but never

  officially joined. He did become distant, traveling for business,

  so Armilus was often left alone, and soon fell in with his

  father’s anarchist connections. He continued the association

  throughout his university career, rising rapidly in rank within

  the party, and has served on the Anarchist Council for over ten

  years, despite briefly falling out of favor. During much of that

  time, he worked first as a professor, then as dean of the

  College of Poets, surreptitiously using his position to recruit

  students to the cause. A voracious reader, possessed of a

  photographic memory, he may have one of the finest minds in

  Evenmere. He is fluent in Latin, Gostian, and Old Aylyrium,

  and conversant in six other languages. He values personal

  loyalty, even beyond loyalty to his party. He has a high sense

  of drama; he loves the grand gesture, as evidenced by his

  confronting you after the battle. He also loves little inside

  jokes, even at perilous cost—Chant pointed out that the

  doctor’s pseudonyms, Mr. Simular and L’Marius, are

  anagrams for Armilus. As the clown, he even stressed the

  spelling of Simular with a u to Jason, and used the name

  L’Marius despite the possibility that you might have known

  the real bosun’s name.”

  “Beyond audacious,” Carter said, “perhaps pathological.”

  “Indeed, but more germane to your question, Armilus is, in

  his way, an honorable man, with a convoluted code of conduct.

  I’m not saying he wouldn’t break his promise, but he would do

  so only if absolutely necessary. My guess is that since he has

  the truce he wanted, he will dismiss Jason from his mind.”

  “That’s some relief, assuming you are correct.”

  “Right. But …” Hope hesitated.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know how to say this.”

  “You’re a lawyer, Will. You always know how to say it.”

  Hope smiled. “Actually, I’m a butler. Very well. It doesn’t

  do any good to have advisors unless they are frank. You may

  have, with the best of intentions, broken a fundamental law of

  the house.”

  “You are the second person tonight to speak of the house

  as if it were alive.”

  “Perhaps not the house itself, but the principles behind the

  house. I have been doing a lot of reading. The Master must

  answer to a higher calling, even if it means sacrificing those

  around him.”

  “Are you saying I should have forfeited my son?”

  Hope winced. “No. I mean, I don’t see how you could; but

  the Master has obligations beyond those of ordinary men.”

  “And what should I have done?” Carter demanded. “Let

  him have Jason? Let myself grow so weary I became lost in

  dream? Where would Evenmere be then?”

  “I’m not condemning you. I’m warning you that there may

  be consequences. The house demands much.”

  “The house demands too much!” Lord Anderson turned

  and paced back and forth across the room, then sat on the bed

  and ran a hand through his hair.

  “I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice low in defeat.

  “You’re right, of course. I suppose that’s what makes me so

  angry. I’ve been trying not to think about it. I’ve seen it every

  way but the way it really is.”

  He looked Hope in the eyes. “I have betrayed Evenmere.”

  “You did what you thought best.”

  “I allowed my love for my son to take precedence over my

  duty. I didn’t have to keep watch over him every night. I could

  have remained at my task, protecting the manor. If the Poetry

  Men succeed, Jason may die anyway. It’s as if I’ve stolen the

  Master Keys all over again.”

  “I didn’t tell you this to make you feel guilty,” Hope said.

  “I want you to be prepared, in case there are repercussions.”

  “Of what sort?”

  “
I don’t know. There are principles concerning the Balance

  that are beyond my understanding, perhaps beyond anyone’s

  understanding. Because you weren’t willing to sacrifice Jason,

  something else may happen. I know that’s vague, but you need

  to watch for it, try to be ready.”

  “Something involving my boy?”

  “It’s not some cosmic scale, weighing one action against

  another. It’s rather that events have been tipped toward the side

  of Chaos. Anything you can do to shore up the cause of Order

  might be useful.”

  Carter frowned. “You don’t understand what you’re

  asking. Whatever I do to affect Chaos or Order can have

  unpredictable—even disastrous—effects. I wouldn’t know

  how to go about it.”

  “Then all I can advise is to watch for whatever opportunity

  comes your way.”

  Carter grimaced, despair gripping his heart.

  Following Carter and Jonathan’s departure, Duskin,

  Lizbeth, and the soldiers soon reached Lowing Hall, a

  sprawling set of apartments overlooking a channel of the

  Fable. Terraced steppes of white marble surrounded the house,

  so that looking out from the upper stories was like gazing over

  glacial plains.

  Duskin went at once to confer with King Edgemont,

  leaving Lizbeth on her own for a few hours. After several days

  of being surrounded by people, she invariably welcomed her

  time alone. Eschewing any assistance from the maid, she ran

  her own bath, and after luxuriating in its warmth, dressed and

  went to the sleepy library nestled in the southern portion of the

  house. Despite its small size, the shelves were carefully

  stocked, and she was soon lying on a floral fainting couch,

  immersed in the flowing prose of Yodner’s Paradoxicon .

  The room was warm, and the author’s slow images of

  velvet curtains against sand and sea gradually lulled Lizbeth,

  until she could scarcely stay awake. She had just finished the

  section where the whole sky rolls up at twilight, revealing the

  Swain Rider, when her eyelids grew too heavy to keep open.

  It seemed she had remained so for only a few seconds

  before a scraping rumble caused her to start. At first, she

  thought she must still be asleep and dreaming, for the

  bookshelf at the end of the couch had swung outward,

  revealing the maw of a lightless passage.

  She sat up, completely alert the moment her feet touched