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Evenmere (The Evenmere Chronicles Book 3)

Page 44

by Stoddard, James

centuries or millennia, perhaps—time when the old lizard

  would have wallowed in destruction.”

  “So …” A dozen thoughts ran through Carter’s mind at

  once. “So you have lived since the beginning of the house.

  You are the house! I have so many questions. Can you tell me

  —”

  “Do you know why I never told people who I was, Master

  Anderson? Why I didn’t say, ‘Come look at Jonathan T.

  Bartholomew, the man who is a house?’ Because if I did, I

  couldn’t have done a bit of my job. They wouldn’t want stories

  that touch the heart anymore. They’d want to know what it

  was like in the old days, and how the house came into being,

  and does God whisper in my eaves in the middle of the night.

  Those questions aren’t for me to answer, so it’s better no one

  knew to ask.”

  Carter shut his mouth with an audible click of his teeth. “I

  understand.”

  “No, you don’t. Not quite. There are two sides to the

  universe: destruction and peace. We are always following the

  path of one or the other. But you and I, we have our places,

  and that is good enough. I will tell you this: the High House is

  not eternal. It is very old, but like all houses, it will someday

  be torn down. Something new is always being put in place.

  That’s right. Always something new.”

  “What will happen to you?”

  “Well, Master Anderson, I don’t rightly know, but there are

  parts and parts. Evenmere, which is me, will live on, though

  the High House will not. I’m not much different than

  anybody.”

  “Are you not?”

  The statue grinned.

  “You keep referring to Storyteller in the past tense,” Carter

  said.

  “Because he has passed, Master Anderson. That’s right.

  That form was destroyed, and I will miss it. I am all house

  now. I will especially miss eating good food, the touch of a

  friend’s hand, the smell of lilacs on a summer’s day, a

  thousand things. This body of stone is one I formed at great

  physical effort so you and I could have our little chat. You see,

  through Storyteller, Evenmere finally learned to speak.”

  “I am so sorry, Jonathan. It’s my fault. I refused to

  sacrifice my son. I—”

  “Now you don’t go talkin’ that way, Carter. Master of

  Evenmere or no, who are you to say what would or wouldn’t

  have happened? Who am I, with my countless rooms and

  chambers, to judge you? You’ve spent your whole life

  regretting stealing your father’s keys, something any boy

  might have done. Why waste the rest of it lingering on your

  failures? Let’s both let it go.”

  Carter bowed his head to hide the tears. “You are … very

  gracious. Thank you. What should I do now?”

  “Have I mentioned I never offer advice? But there is

  always something for the Master of Evenmere to do. Some

  wrong to right, some battle to win. What I would do, if I were

  Carter Anderson, Keeper of the Master Keys, et cetera, et

  cetera, is walk back into the house, find my wife and son, and

  have a nice cup of tea.”

  Carter abruptly laughed.

  “What’s funny?”

  “You have always called me Master Anderson, never Lord

  Anderson. You were addressing me as befits one who is my

  superior.”

  Storyteller grinned. “An old house accumulates many

  private jokes.”

  Together they walked to the door. But as the minstrel

  touched the knob, his form melted away, melding with the

  stones and timbers of the High House. As Carter stood

  astonished, a voice humming from the eaves said, “I will be

  listening for you, Master Anderson. The walls have ears, you

  know. They surely do.”

  Lord Anderson soon returned to his old life, overseeing the

  building of the telegraph, working with Mr. Hope, Chant,

  Enoch and the other servants of the house, and watching his

  son grow up. He spoke often with Lizbeth, showing her much,

  but not all, of the knowledge normally reserved for the Master.

  One day, after receiving a message from Chant, he donned

  his traveling boots and cast his Tawny Mantle about his

  shoulders. Instead of his shattered Lightning Sword, he carried

  an ordinary rapier. He traveled through Ghahanjhin, skirted the

  Mere of Books, and reached the northeast corner of

  Vroomanlin Wood. Among the walled gardens, he found

  Chant in the dusk, reciting poetry to The Men Who Are Trees.

  The Lamp-lighter completed the last stanzas just as Carter

  arrived. The strange plants gave their plaintive wails for half a

  minute, quieting after the last rays of the sun no longer shone

  on their faces.

  “Why do you recite to them?” Carter asked.

  Chant smiled his wry smile. “My old friend Nighthammer,

  the blind anarchist, asked me the same question. He assured

  me it was a waste of time.”

  Carter sat on the bench beside his companion.

  “I miss him,” Chant said. “We had wonderful

  conversations together. He was a brilliant man and an

  excellent poet.”

  “And the one who lied to you about The Book of Lore .

  Perhaps a murderer as well.”

  “Perhaps.” Chant gazed at Carter with his rose-pink eyes.

  “Aren’t we all soldiers, fighting for a cause?”

  Carter looked down, thinking of the blood on his own

  hands. “Will he really come?”

  “He said he would.”

  “The pact I made with him nearly cost us everything,”

  Carter said. “In my fear for Jason, I almost gave Evenmere

  away. Armilus was this close to changing the universe. I

  measured the life of a boy against the fate of Existence and

  chose my son.”

  “Well—he’s a good boy.”

  Carter glanced at his friend, caught the irony in his eyes.

  They both laughed.

  “At least you decided for Evenmere at the end,” Chant

  said.

  “As a result, I alternate between feeling guilty about my

  first choice and my second.”

  “If, chance, from fell Charybdis I escape, May I not also

  save from Scylla’s force My people; should the monster

  threaten them ?” Chant recited. “We learn as we go.

  Throughout my life I’ve thought poetry the highest calling, the

  music of the spheres. I considered lighting the lamps a small

  part of that. But we almost had too much poetry, poetry not to

  be borne. I have been reminded that there are greater things

  than poetry: friendship—hope—love.”

  A sound behind the men caused them to rise and turn.

  Doctor Benjamin Armilus, dressed in his bowler hat and black

  greatcoat, filled the narrow opening with his bulk. In his

  hands, he gripped The Book of Lore . Carter summoned the

  Word Which Manifests to mind.

  “Doctor,” Carter said.

  “Lord Anderson. Lamp-lighter,” Armilus nodded his head

  to both of them. “May I sit?”

  Carter gestured toward a bench across from their own. The

  seat creaked und
er the doctor’s weight, and Carter, reminding

  himself that the man was more muscle than fat, placed his

  hand near the pocket holding his revolver.

  “I appreciate you agreeing to see me,” Armilus began.

  “Are you well?”

  “Have you come to inquire on my health?” Carter asked.

  Armilus gave the barest turn of a smile. “We have played a

  deadly game, Lord Anderson, with the highest stakes. I trust

  you will prove a gracious victor?”

  “I have played no games, Doctor. None of it was a game.

  We were both manipulated. The world was nearly lost. Unless

  you have come to turn yourself in to the authorities, we have

  nothing to say to one another.”

  Armilus looked down, almost imperceptibly nodding his

  head. “I came for only one reason—to ask a question. It is

  about … I want to know about the Face we saw at the end, the

  one who took the beast away. Does it trouble you at night? Do

  you think of it?”

  The question surprised Carter. “Actually, it brings me

  comfort.”

  “Who was it?” Armilus’ voice grew ragged. “Do you

  know? Can you tell me?”

  “I have recently been told that there are many servants,

  Doctor, so I assume it was one of those. A doorkeeper,

  perhaps.”

  “A doorkeeper ?” Armilus pursed his lips, shaking his

  head. “You only make matters worse. Whoever it was, I have

  never seen a Face like that. I cannot get it out of my mind.

  Because of it, I now doubt my previous assumption of a

  universe of impersonal forces. If there are indeed Beings

  overseeing our existence …” He mopped his brow with a

  handkerchief. “I have resigned my position as Supreme

  Anarchist. I intend to go away for a time to meditate upon the

  matter.”

  “Will the other anarchists let you depart so easily?” Chant

  asked. “You still possess the knowledge from The Book of

  Lore . For that matter, I question whether we should allow you

  to leave here unfettered.”

  Armilus grimaced and set the heavy book on the ground

  before them. “I came under a flag of truce, and you are both

  honorable men. The book was a tool of Jormungand’s. I know

  that now. It could never be turned to our purposes. That is why

  I brought it to you, to destroy it if you can, or to seal it back in

  the Mere. I informed the Council that its power was useless to

  us, and I believe I possess enough personal authority to assure

  my own safety, so long as I am not perceived as an

  encumbrance.”

  “After the way you threatened my son, surely you haven’t

  come seeking absolution?” Carter asked.

  “I came, as I said, to ask a question. Someday I may

  indeed seek amnesty for my crimes. The Master has the

  authority to grant a pardon in certain cases. But perhaps Lord

  Anderson has never done anything he later regretted.”

  Carter sat silent. Armilus rose and gave a slight bow.

  “Gentlemen, I thank you for your time and bid you good day.”

  With that, the former Supreme Anarchist departed.

  “What do you make of that?” Carter asked.

  “I am down again; But now my heavy conscience sinks my

  knee as then your force did. ”

  “Perhaps,” Carter said. “Maybe he has undergone a

  change. But he is still a murderer. When he came to us, I

  assumed it was as the head of the Society of Anarchists,

  arriving under what amounted to a cease-fire. If he no longer

  represents them, he is merely a criminal deserving

  punishment.”

  “We can probably still catch him.”

  Carter studied the quiescent faces of The Men Who Are

  Trees. Their eyes were closed; they looked innocent as

  children at rest.

  “Do you really think they’re conscious?” Carter asked.

  “Are they, as some say, paying penance for a terrible crime

  committed long ago?”

  “I only know when I read them poetry, it brings them

  peace.”

  The two servants looked at one another.

  “Should we go home?” the Lamp-lighter asked.

  “Let’s just sit here awhile. So long as Evenmere surrounds

  us; we are among friends.”

  THE END

  To find out more about Phra’s story, read the short story,

  The Star Watch , for free here

  To return to the end of the scene of Jonathan and Phra on

  the bridge click here

 

 

 


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