“What happened, Momma?” Jason asked.
“It’s all right,” Sarah soothed, stroking his hair while
Lizbeth checked on Mr. Hope.
The butler was soon roused, and together the three of them
stepped to the window, Sarah fiercely gripping her son’s hand.
Nothing lay outside save a vast, impenetrable mist, an
unending gray without flower, grass, tree, or even visible
earth.
“You felt it before it happened,” Mr. Hope said. “What was
it?”
“Some sort of change,” Lizbeth said, “like a great wave
pouring over the Inner Chambers. I can’t be more specific.”
“Is the rest of the house safe?” Sarah asked.
“I think so, but we are somewhere else. I thought at first
we were dead, but I don’t believe it now.”
“Let’s rule that out,” Sarah said. “If we were, I think we
would feel either better or worse.”
The doors burst open and the servants poured in, seeking
explanations and instructions. Momentary bedlam followed.
For once, Mr. Hope seemed nonplussed, but Sarah, quick-
witted as ever, took charge with astonishing aplomb.
“We’re in a bit of a pickle, all at sea,” she told them, “but
not sinking in the brine, at least not yet. Charles, I want you to
post sentries at the exits. No one is to go out. We may send an
exploratory party later. Meredith, I need a list of everyone who
is in the Inner Chambers. For the rest of you, your instructions
are to continue your work, while we try to straighten this out.”
“But what’s happened, m’lady?” one of the serving girls
asked, her eyes filled with terror.
“Why, only a little thing, child,” Sarah said. “You’ve gone
out for strolls, haven’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“The Inner Chambers has done the same thing, taken a bit
of a holiday. She’s a good girl, though, just like you, and won’t
have gone far. We’ll see where she’s wandered to and get her
back home before dark. Now let’s be about our business.”
After the servants left, taking Jason with them, Sarah sat
down in a chair and put her hands to her face, though she did
not weep. “Do I have any idea what I’m talking about,
William?”
“None whatsoever,” the butler said, gazing into the gray
mist, “but you spoke with authority and that is more than I
could manage. Thank you.”
“What do we do now?” Sarah asked.
“Lizbeth,” Mr. Hope said, “do you have any idea where we
are?”
Lizbeth closed her eyes, remembering how she used to feel
during her captivity, when the anarchists had given her the
power to change rooms of the house simply by willing it. She
did not like to think of those times, but they were always a part
of her, and she understood what the transformations were like.
Now she listened for those changes, trying to comprehend
what had occurred. What had the Inner Chambers felt like
before the shift? How was it different now? Gradually, an
impression came to her.
“We are farther down,” she said at last, opening her eyes.
“What do you mean, dear one?” Sarah asked.
“I don’t know exactly. Somewhere deeper. Not in the
earth; I don’t mean that. Deeper. Like we’ve stepped inside .”
“Inside where?” Mr. Hope asked.
“Can’t you feel it?” Lizbeth asked. “As I sit here, I can
sense it—perhaps because we are farther down.”
“I don’t feel anything,” Sarah said.
Lizbeth rose to her feet and paced the room, too excited to
sit still. “Oh! I never expected to possess anything like the
power of the Cornerstone again! But I should have known an
object of such might would leave a residue! It’s not
everything, of course. I can’t transform the halls of Evenmere
as I could the False House, but I can sense …” She halted in
the middle of the room. She felt the Inner Chambers about her,
the wood and stone, the arches and doorways; she felt the
rooms and passageways; she perceived a remnant of expended
energy, the cause of the Winking.
She turned to Sarah and Hope and found them staring
uncertainly at her. “Don’t look at me that way,” she said. “I
haven’t lost my mind. The Poetry Men must have sent us here,
the same way they took Shadow Valley. It’s the only
explanation. The energy used is the same kind of elemental
force Carter and Chant both described, perhaps the same as the
Cornerstone itself. We’ve been brought to a place on the same
level—or dimension—I don’t know what the proper word is—
as that Power.”
“If that’s true, what can we do?” Mr. Hope asked. “Is there
a way back?”
“I don’t know,” Lizbeth said, “but there is a way out of the
Inner Chambers.”
“I assume you don’t mean by the front door,” Mr. Hope
said, glancing at the misty vacancy beyond the window.
Lizbeth closed her eyes again. “I can sense it, but I can’t
pinpoint it. As if it were hidden.”
“A secret passage?” Sarah suggested.
“Perhaps,” Lizbeth said. “It seems …” She waved her
hands slowly before her, palms down. “Underneath.”
“Many of the passages of Evenmere are hidden,” Hope
said, “but even if we find it, where would it lead? Why should
it provide a way of escape?”
“It just does,” Lizbeth said. “I’ve no other explanation.”
Eying her sister in concern, Sarah started to speak, but fell
silent.
“If it is a secret passage, it might take weeks to find it,”
Mr. Hope said. “Without the Word of Secret Ways, we would
have to go over the entire Inner Chambers an inch at a time.”
“We could find the Word in the Book of Forgotten
Things,” Lizbeth said.
“Oh, child, we can’t use that,” Sarah said.
“I could,” Lizbeth said.
“Absolutely not,” Sarah said. “We don’t know if anyone
except the Master can control the Words of Power. It’s too
dangerous to try.”
“Yet they might answer to her,” Mr. Hope said. Seeing
Sarah’s ferocious look, he raised his hand in defense. “Hear
me out. Lizbeth has wielded similar power before. She even
knew we were about to be spirited away. And here’s another
thing—she came to us through secret passages, as if someone
or something contrived to send her. As if the house itself—”
“Sheer conjecture,” Sarah said. “It could just as easily have
been the poets, for reasons of their own.”
“Regardless,” Lizbeth said, “I am here. I think I should
read the book.”
“I reluctantly agree,” Mr. Hope said, “but the room is kept
locked, and only Carter has a key.”
“I was there two days ago,” Lizbeth said.
“Impossible,” Sarah said. “Carter is relentless about
keeping it secured.”
“It is unlocked,” Lizbeth insisted. “I was looking through
th
e library and tried the door out of curiosity. I’d never been
before. The stained-glass angel in the skylight is beautiful; I
wondered why you’d never shown it to me.”
“We wanted to be certain we could trust you first.”
“Very funny.”
“Actually, I didn’t realize you had never seen it,” Sarah
said. “Carter treats the room with the reverence of a church.
How could it be unlocked?”
“Whatever the case, Lizbeth’s path literally lies open
before her,” William said. “I think we should let her do it.”
“I don’t like it one bit,” Sarah said, staring helplessly at the
two of them. “We’re deciding this too fast. Is there no other
way?”
“I think I should trust my instincts,” Lizbeth said.
“Through the Cornerstone, I was once attuned to the type of
power in this place. I should go where it leads me.”
Sarah bit her lip, her eyes bleak. “Very well. We certainly
can’t remain in this gray limbo forever.”
Leaving Mr. Hope’s office, they descended the stair to the
transverse corridor and made their way to the tall doors of the
library, whose edges were covered with scores of seraphs and
hippogriffs. Turning the jade knob, the three passed into the
library, over the russet cattails and olive frond carpet, past the
couches to the narrow door to their left, which Mr. Hope
hurriedly opened.
“Lizbeth was right,” he said.
“You didn’t believe me?”
“Certainly we did,” Sarah said, “but you of all people
should know there are times when reality in Evenmere grows
tenuous.”
The room was windowless, with gold fleur-de-lis on blue
carpet, seven buttercup lights already burning in the brass
candelabra, and a magnificent stained-glass skylight, red, blue,
and gold, depicting an angel with long, golden hair flowing to
his shoulders, presenting a heavy book to a man.
Mr. Hope walked quickly to the kidney-shaped desk and
withdrew a small skeleton key from its top drawer, which he
used to unlock a bookcase lined with blue-leaded glass. The
butler drew the large volume from the bookcase, handling it as
gingerly as if it were an anarchist’s bomb. He set it reverently
on the desk, his face grave. “Lizbeth, this book is highly
dangerous. You must turn to page seven. I would discourage
you from looking at any other page; the consequences can be
quite disturbing. Words may appear; we have no way of
knowing which ones. According to Carter, the book, or
something beyond the book, knows what you are seeking. If
we’re fortunate, the worst that will happen is that no words
will appear. If not—well, I don’t know what might occur. Take
a seat.”
“Can I sit beside her?” Sarah asked. “No, never mind; I
know the answer. Some trials must be faced alone.”
“You and I should by no means look at the pages,” Mr.
Hope said. “It’s not meant for us.”
“Really, William, there’s no need to make this a temptation
through denial.”
“The temptation is real enough, believe me. More than
once I’ve been grateful Carter keeps the door locked.”
“You surprise me,” Sarah said.
“Some are inclined to drink too much and some aren’t,”
the lawyer said, “but a book that can show us our very souls is
a universal temptation.”
Lizbeth sat down, her eyes fixed on the volume. Her
companions took seats across from the desk.
“There is great power here,” Lizbeth said, “like a flame.”
She moved her hand reluctantly toward the cover. Upon
contact with it, she felt a jolt that made her gasp. “No wonder
Carter reveres it. It’s so bright. So pure.”
She fell silent, her impressions turning inward.
Mr. Hope took Sarah’s arm. “Look away.”
Lizbeth glanced up and caught Sarah’s gaze. Sarah was not
an emotional woman, but Lizbeth knew her well enough to
recognize her concern. How Lizbeth loved her! Sarah dropped
her eyes to the floor.
Opening the book the barest fraction, Lizbeth counted the
pages and spread the volume. At first the page was blank, but
as she continued to look, a single word appeared in letters of
gold. It drew her whole concentration, as if it were the entire
world. She said it softly. Talheedin . The letters burst into
flame but were not consumed; the heat of the burning warmed
her face. She spoke it again and felt it sinking into her,
becoming part of her. She had thought memorizing it would
take an effort; she found it unforgettable.
The characters went cold, and she suddenly felt weary. The
Word was within her, but had taken its toll.
“I have it,” she said, “but there is only one. How do I know
if it is the Word of Secret Ways? Should I wait to see if others
appear?”
Sarah gave an exhalation of relief. Mr. Hope moped his
brow with his handkerchief.
“No others will appear at this time,” the butler said.
“I want to see one of the other pages.”
“Lizbeth, no,” Sarah said.
But Mr. Hope placed his hand on Sarah’s arm. “I think it
should be allowed. As long as it is only one. The book has
accepted her. You will be shown a forgotten memory, Lizbeth,
which may or may not be pleasant. To my knowledge, Carter
has ventured to look only three times. Still, it can sometimes
be useful. Simply turn to the next page.”
Lizbeth glanced up. Sarah, always so calm, was wringing
her hands.
Lizbeth bit her lip and returned to the book. In her life, she
had seen terrible deeds and suffered many torments; she
dreaded revisiting them. Her fingers trembled as she turned the
page.
Once more, she saw nothing at first, until a picture
gradually formed. It was not, as she had feared, of the time of
her captivity. She was at Innman Tor again, with Count Aegis,
Sarah’s father, who had adopted Lizbeth when she was ten. It
surprised her how young he looked. His old-fashioned
spectacles, so familiar at the time, seemed quaint and funny.
They were sitting in the drawing room of the Little Palace,
reading together, but the book had been set aside because it
had made Lizbeth contemplative.
“But why did my daddy leave me?” her younger self
asked.
Count Aegis looked kindly upon her, and she could tell he
was weighing his words carefully. “You must understand,
Lizbeth, that your father didn’t mean to desert you. I say this,
even though I do not know him. Sometimes people become
lost—in vice, or a cause, or an affair of the heart, or a thousand
other things of the world. He paid a terrible price for his
allegiance to the anarchists, losing you. It was nothing you
did; you were too little to have done anything.”
Lizbeth glanced down at her hands, thinking that through.
Finally, she looked up, and with utter and complete confidence
s
aid, “You would never leave me like that.”
Their gazes met and tears suddenly rose in the count’s
eyes. His voice rasped slightly, “No, child, I would not.”
The vision faded, leaving a blank page. Lizbeth sat in the
chair in the small chamber, the mosaic angel looking down
upon her. She had indeed forgotten that conversation. Shortly
thereafter, she had been abducted and imprisoned for six years.
She wondered if their discussion had weighed upon the count
during her absence. Though he hadn’t abandoned her, it had
felt to her as if he had. She wondered if she had gotten over it,
or if it still seemed that way, down deep.
She shut the book.
“Are you all right?” Sarah asked.
Lizbeth smiled. “I’m fine.” But she did not tell what she
had seen. “Where should I speak the Word?”
“Anywhere,” Mr. Hope said. “It should affect the entire
Inner Chambers. But not in here. Let’s at least go out to the
transverse corridor.”
Lacking a key, they left the door unlocked and entered the
corridor.
“You must summon the Word,” the lawyer said. “Bring it
to your mind, visualizing it with as much clarity as you can.
Only speak it when you have it firmly in your thoughts.”
Sarah and Mr. Hope stepped back, and Lizbeth closed her
eyes. Having a strong imagination, producing an image of the
Word was easy, but she gasped as it rose before her. Unlike her
other fancies, there was an otherness about this; the Word of
Power was something she borrowed rather than owned. It
burned in her mind, a flame so hot she felt it upon her
forehead. It grew before her, until it towered above her, no
longer merely a Word, but a structure with doors and windows
like a house.
It was not so much that she spoke it; she simply could not
contain it. It rushed from her throat, a hot wind streaking into
the world. The room shook from its release.
She opened her eyes. Mr. Hope and Sarah gazed
expectantly at her. She shrugged. “Is it done?”
“It is,” Mr. Hope said. “Somewhat easily, it seems. You
have a talent for it.”
“No,” Lizbeth said. “It isn’t like that. One doesn’t have a
knack, like being good at mathematics. It’s more like being
carried piggy-back. All one can do is hold on.”
“You must look for a faint blue light,” Sarah said,
“probably against a wall. You’re the only one who can find it.
Evenmere (The Evenmere Chronicles Book 3) Page 34
