21. Sam The Camera #3
I had no doubt that the task required of me would be repugnant. But how repugnant? Would it be something I could do by gritting my teeth? Or would it be so reprehensible that I would be unable to bear it?
The drive took more than half an hour. Toward the end of it, the road was rough—half a mile, at least, of driving on a bumpy dirt road.
I peered out through the window and could see nothing.
Ahead, only woods in the faint light of the coach lanterns.
Finally we came to a stop, and Hornsby bounded out of the coach with an eager step.
I followed him and looked about, taking stock of our location.
Some two hundred yards away, separated from us by a vast lawn, stood a castle.
Or at least to me it looked like a castle: a vast, stone edifice with lanterns in the windows and on the turrets.
There was a formal pool, rectangular and with a fountain at one end, set in a patio that descended to the lawn with stone steps.
The fountain bubbled quietly, and I heard sharp, unhurried footsteps coming toward us along the brick pathway that ran from the house to where we stood.
The moon came out then from behind a cloud, and I saw the man who walked toward us, followed by his pale thew.
His white forehead gleamed in the moonlight.
He had a dark beard and a vest festooned with jewels and ornaments.
I couldn’t see his eyes or other features clearly, but I saw the haughtiness of his demeanor, and I had no doubt that the castle was his.
It was my first glimpse of Karl Draken, the Embalmer.
When he had reached us, he shook hands with Hornsby and glanced only briefly at me. “Is he ready?” he asked Hornsby.
Hornsby laughed. “As ready as he’ll ever be.”
The bejeweled man shook his head. “I wish you would do more to ensure their preparation. It only stands to reason that the roper will last longer if he’s trained.”
Hornsby made a dismissive gesture. “Where’s Pelham?”
“He’s inside; he’ll join us momentarily. Decima,” he said to the spirit, “guard the entrance.”
She bowed.
With a feeling of growing unease, I followed the two men away from the house and into the nearby woods.
The path began in darkness, but as we walked along it, the way was illuminated by orbs of light that hung in the trees: yellow spheres that flickered gently.
Suddenly, I saw a shape step into the path ahead of us—low and silent, dark and lithe, with glowing yellow eyes. It was a wolf.
Instinctively, I froze, although the other two men kept walking.
Hornsby noticed my paralysis and chuckled.
He didn’t slow his steps. “Do you like the pets we keep at the Manse?” He stood before the wolf and reached down as if to stroke it—I almost cried out—and, to my astonishment, the wolf disappeared.
Hornsby was holding a bone in his hand, a bone that hung on a long string from the tree above.
He laughed again, dropping the bone, and the wolf reappeared.
It was an illusion. I took a deep breath and followed in their footsteps, giving the wolf bone a wide berth.
The figure was uncanny; it turned its head as I passed, fixing its hungry yellow eyes upon me.
I couldn’t help looking over my shoulder as we continued; some part of me insisted that the wolf was real.
After walking only a short distance more, we arrived at a dilapidated stone cottage that must once have been the groundskeeper’s house.
The remaining shutters hung crookedly, most of the glass panes were broken, and the chimney had entirely crumbled.
But the door was sound, and Hornsby opened it, disappearing inside, while I waited with the other man.
A moment later he reemerged carrying an enormous length of rope, a belt, and a pair of metal boots.
“Byron,” Hornsby said to me, “put on the boots and the belt.”
I was by now exceedingly nervous, but I pulled the metal boots on over my own shoes.
These weren’t beautiful pieces of armor, but something more akin to lead buckets.
I could barely move in them—they must have weighed ten pounds each.
The belt was a leather strap, four inches wide, with a large double buckle. I strapped it on.
“Good,” Hornsby said, nodding. “Here’s the rope. Have you any knowledge of knots?”
I did, thanks to my father’s trade in henequen. Ropes had been his signature product, and I was an expert worker of knots. “I do.”
“You’ll tie one end to your belt right now and the other end to the handle on the inside of the door.”
I held the rope in my hand. “You still haven’t told me what I’m doing,” I said, my sense of calm fraying with each passing moment.
The owner of the castle frowned. “Hornsby, this is unacceptable,” he said harshly.
Hornsby gave a hard laugh. “If I’d told him the truth of it, Draken, he wouldn’t have come.”
This assessment sent a sheet of ice down my back. I stood motionlessly (easily done, with the metal boots), resolved not to move an inch until Hornsby explained what he expected of me. “Tell me what this is about,” I demanded, overcome by desperation.
“The door before you,” Draken said, “is a portal to the spirit realm.”
I stared at the door, now closed. This was the location of the portal.
The only one for miles around, as far as anyone knew.
It was here that so many enchanters of Boston and Salem had come to secure a thew.
Just beyond this door. I looked at the doorway in awe, imagining a whole world of spirits inside the tumbledown cottage.
Hornsby continued his matter-of-fact instructions.
“After tying the rope to the door, venture outward. Once this is done, traverse the cloud channel. The rope is long enough to get you there; when you run out of rope, you’ll know that you’ve reached the first isle.
The iron boots will facilitate your movements.
If you come unmoored, or if you lose the boots, you’ll be lost in the currents.
Pelham, who will be here by the time you return, prefers a thew under twenty years of age.
If necessary, use the excess rope to bind her.
After you bring her back across the channel, knock on the door.
Pelham will step temporarily into the spirit realm and bind the spirit to him. ”
I listened to these commands with a growing sense of disbelief.
“Do you mean to say that you wish me to secure a spirit thew—for another man?” I shook my head and looked at each of them in turn, aghast. “I’ve made no preparation for this journey.
I am only a little over a year into my studies.
Even mature enchanters fail repeatedly to secure a thew.
Any one of you would be better suited to the task. ”
Draken looked irritated, Hornsby amused. “Is that what you think?” Hornsby asked. “I suppose you imagine you are the first young man to be distinguished with this task?”
This took a while to sink in. I stared, and Hornsby waited. The truth of it hit me like a jolt. “This is how it’s done? By other men? The enchanter doesn’t venture into the realm himself?”
“Fools and adventurers do,” Draken said in a lofty tone. “But enchanters of the Cisneros Society count on the services of others; their lives are too precious to be risked in such a manner.”
I was so flabbergasted by this admission that I momentarily lost sight of the more immediate predicament before me.
I found myself scrambling to imagine the other men recruited for this task—who were they?
The other men Hornsby had entrapped? And how had these enchanters managed to persuade the world that they were the champions of their own odysseys into the spirit realm?
My head was spinning. It was my first indication that I had not gained the upper hand in my negotiations with Mead. No, not at all.
Hornsby urged me onward by pressing me to the task at hand.
“Remember what we discussed earlier,” he said firmly.
“If you do this, and do it successfully, you can continue your studies. You’ll be called upon perhaps once or twice a month.
And with time, you will grow more experienced.
I expect that within half a year it will prove an easy trick for you. ”
I continued to stare at him, stunned by the further realization that he expected me to do this more than once.
“And you should,” Hornsby went on, “consider the alternative. Not only a disgraced ejection from Commonwealth, but an uncertain road ahead for you and your family.” He paused.
“I would so like to see your brother, Cris, and your mother, Camille, flourish, wouldn’t you?
” Their names fell into our conversation like two bright stars tumbling in a dark sky.
I looked Hornsby in the eye and found a cold, unyielding cunning there.
“They’ve been so fortunate until now,” he said, his voice low and oily, “and yet you know how seemingly random misfortune can be when it strikes.” Then he waited, saying nothing more, letting the insinuation linger.
I understood then what I’d been too stupid to realize earlier that day in the Camera.
I had no choice in this at all. My choice had already been made the moment I stumbled onto the Commonwealth campus.
I couldn’t imagine the punitive actions that the Cisneros Society would carry out against me and my family, but it was obvious that a collection of the most powerful enchanters in Boston could do far more damage than we could take.
“Very well,” I said hoarsely. “I’ll go. Is there nothing more you can tell me about the channel, or how to find the first isle?”
Hornsby leaned back on his heels, pleased now that I had acquiesced. “I’ve never been past the entryway,” he said cheerfully.