Further Journeys
Chapter Four
FURTHER JOURNEYS
Alison
T he kitchen table in Yordin’s house was tense as they waited to hear more of the mysterious Finnli.
“He’s one of the youngins,” said Yordin. “Now I know what you’re going to say—”
“No,” said Gwenla. “Absolutely not. Are you insane?”
“Gwenla—”
“No, Yordin. Yes, I enjoyed babysitting you when you were little, but those years are long behind me. I’m in no condition to pick up ‘frigerators off the floor.”
“It’s fixed,” said Weyland, swinging the door closed once more.
“Good man!” said Yordin, shaking Weyland’s hand. “Say, do you need a job? I could use a man of your size—”
“Would you stop offering my friends jobs for a minute and listen to me?” Gwenla stood to face her cousin. He was quite a bit taller than her, though nowhere near the size of Weyland or even Keir, but he looked small before her, defeated.
“There are seven of them, Gwenla. Seven. The manufactories have been good to us, but it doesn’t matter how much coin you have when you can’t get the nannies to stay. We paid the last one three times the going wage up front.”
“Well, no wonder she left if you paid her up front,” said Lady Sibba. Gwenla gave her an icy look, and she realized her mistake. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean—”
“No, you’re right. That was foolish. The new one is starting tonight, and we won’t make the same mistake. The truth is, we’re desperate.”
“I understand that,” said Gwenla, “but I don’t know why you think I’ll have any more success. I haven’t taken care of children in decades, and never full time. And we have a business venture to take care of.”
“I’m not asking you to take care of children. Just one child. He’s a good lad. Quiet, studious. Just turned eight. He’s the best behaved of the lot.”
“Then why him? Surely you’d want me to take on one of the more difficult children.”
Yordin sighed, looking off into the next room towards the sounds of laughter and tears, which were punctuated by the occasional crash or dread-inducing crunch. “He’s not like us. I can’t give him what he needs. He’s like you. Always sneaking off to the surface, running around up there alone. It's dangerous up there. I only go up when I have to. He needs someone to guide him. Someone who can teach him what things up there are. Someone who can keep him safe.”
Yordin looked at Gwenla, his tired grey eyes touched with tears. “Please, Gwenla. Do this for us, and I’ll build you any type of machine you want.”
Just then, a little blonde dwarf boy stumbled into the room. He was watching something moving in a jar, paying so little attention to where he was going that he would have collided with Lady Sibba had she not seen him coming. Instead, she gently reached for his shoulder, guiding him around her.
“We have room in the school,” said Lady Sibba. “The term is starting when I get back. It’s good timing.”
Gwenla scowled at the elf.
“What’s that you have there, boy?” said Gwenla. She held out her hand.
“Finnli, show it to her. There’s a good lad,” said Yordin.
Yordin had so much love in his eyes for the child despite his exhaustion that Alison couldn’t imagine saying no to him. But Gwenla’s face was impassive.
“This is my green critter,” said Finnli, holding up the glass jar. Inside was a caterpillar of impressive size. It was nearly as long as one of Alison’s fingers and at least twice as fat. “He likes to eat green stuff.”
Gwenla took a quick look at the caterpillar and nearly tossed the jar. “It’s a hornworm. Terrible pest. They nearly destroyed my tomatoes the year before last. Take that thing out of the jar and step on it.”
“No!” shouted Finnli, snatching the jar back from Gwenla. “I will not! He’s my friend.”
The little boy’s face was going red. He jutted his chin out at Gwenla, defiant.
Gwenla gave Yordin a stubborn look as if to say, “This was your best idea?”
But when she turned back to Finnli, something changed. There was something so sweet about his little face, as angry as it was. Alison could see what Yordin had meant—he did have quite a bit of Gwenla’s determination in him at the very least.
Gwenla’s expression softened. “What’s his name?”
“Mortimer. It’s from a human story I read once.”
“If Mortimer is coming with us, he has to stay in that jar. I won’t have him ruining my plants. But we should put some holes in the top so he can breathe.”
“Oh, thank you, Gwenla. Thank you,” said Yordin. He reached out to shake her hand, but she held her hand up.
“ If ,” she said. “I think I ought to stay here for a few days. Let’s see how we get on before we make any major decisions. That is, if the rest of you think you can manage without me?”
“Of course,” said Alison. “We’ll handle the rest of the plans.” Alison recognized what Gwenla was doing for Yordin—how she had seen that she was needed, and it wasn’t Gwenla’s way to refuse someone who needed her help.
And while Gwenla may have left the mountain for a reason, Alison knew that she had been missed, and she was glad for her friend to have the opportunity to spend time with her family.
It also gave her a pang of guilt. She didn’t have a large family left in Arcas Dyrne, but she owed her mother more than the couple of letters she’d sent so far.
That was a problem for another time, though.
“Come, everyone,” said Yordin. “We’ll get you settled for the night in the guest rooms—don’t worry, the kids don’t have access to that floor. Marna and I are making our special roast supper tonight, assuming the new nanny arrives.”
Alison followed the others upstairs, dodging toy rail-wheelers and looking forward to finding out what made the roast “special.”
The answer had been copious amounts of butter, an unbelievably hot grill, and a beautifully marbled cut of beef that had been raised by human farmers in the valley beyond. It was just as special as Yordin had promised.
In the morning, they thanked Yordin for his support and accommodations and headed back to the minecarts to catch the rail-wheel to Winwold, a box of sample materials as requested by Professor Marin in tow. Alison had thought Willow might have wanted to stay with Gwenla in order to avoid any further transit, but the cat’s first encounter with the children put a quick end to that idea.
“Get this thing off me,” she said. One of Yordin’s daughters had tied a frilly pink bonnet around her neck.
It was extremely cute, but Alison knew better than to admit it. Instead, she bent down and untied the laces, freeing Willow.
“Completely undignified,” said Willow. “I spent all night trying to evade those little monsters.”
“Well, you can get plenty of rest on the rail-wheeler,” said Alison.
The journey to Norgate, the mountain town where Winwold was located, was not far as the crow flies, but unfortunately, it seemed that there was a tiny town with a tiny station on the other side of every mountain they went around and every tunnel they passed through. The scenery was beautiful though, all snow-capped peaks and green valleys shifting to amber with the cooling of the weather, but Alison was eager to get to the college. She didn’t know how much time it might take Professor Marin to sort out the issues with the solar device, and the looming threat of the king giving the order to raze the town hung over all of their heads.
The light had begun to fade by the time they pulled into Norgate Station. Norgate was the largest and busiest town they had been through since Landsend, though most of that was the college and its just arriving students, many of them on the very same rail-wheeler. A line of carriages awaited to bring the freshers and their families up to High House, and Alison and her remaining companions would be taking one of those as well.
Although they wouldn’t be alone.
“Alison! Over here!”
Alison nearly didn’t recognize Rinka, her former roommate and dearest friend. The orc was wearing a prim suit in a studious gray, and she’d cut her red hair stylishly short and curled it neatly. She stood with Prince Idris, looking dapper in his school attire, in front of an expensive-looking carriage.
Alison noticed the carriage lacked the royal insignia. Prince Idris didn’t like to make a fuss.
Alison waved to them as Keir touched her shoulder. “I’m going to run to the post office across the street.” In his hands was a small brown package tied with white string.
“For Charlotte?” Alison guessed.
“It’s a puzzle I bought from the dwarves while you were sleeping this morning. A funny little metal contraption. She always loved that kind of thing.”
Alison smiled. “I’ll tell them to wait for you.”
She crossed over to the carriage and was greeted by one of Rinka’s biggest hugs.
“I missed you,” said Rinka.
“How was Princess Chloe?” asked Alison once she could breathe again: the orc had one hell of a grip.
“Amazing. I’ll tell you all about it on the ride up.”
“Boys and girls?” said Lady Sibba, gesturing to the two carriages.
“Of course,” said Rinka, linking arms with her and climbing into the front carriage. “How else are we meant to gossip?”
Alison felt bad for Weyland—he was, despite his size, one of the girls more than one of the boys.
“Don’t worry,” said Lady Sibba, sensing Alison’s concerns. “I’ll catch him up on it all once we’re there.”
As the carriage traveled the path to High House, Rinka told them of her travels the past couple of weeks. First, they had gone to see Princess Chloe at her country home.
“We told her the truth,” said Rinka. Rinka had posed as a noble from the continental principality of Paistos during the summer in order to convince Loegria’s courtiers to save Herot’s Hollow from the construction of a dam. It had worked, but primarily due to her befriending of Princess Ceridwen, who had the ear of the king.
“How did she take it?” asked Alison.
“She was very surprised,” said Rinka. “I think we really fooled her. But she was great about it. She had ideas for how to tell the rest of the court. Some of them were completely wild, like saying that my father had been eaten by sea lions and that in Paistos, it meant I had to forfeit my title.”
“Highly plausible,” said Alison.
“Do they even have sea lions in Paistos?” asked Lady Sibba.
“Not a one,” said Rinka. “But her last suggestion was the best one. She has a friend who works for a women’s magazine in Arcas Dyrne, and she likes to write stories about the court. Apparently the court likes to ‘leak’ information to her as well.”
“Of course they do,” said Lady Sibba.
“Princess Chloe thinks we ought to do an interview with her and tell her the real story of how we met on the ferry, the pirates, all of it. The king will be happy to have the pirates back in the news to drum up support for his military buildup. And if he publicly disapproves after it’s already been announced, it’ll look like he doesn’t have control of his own son.”
“Which he doesn’t,” said Alison.
“Which he doesn’t,” agreed Rinka, “but he’d die before admitting that.”
“When is the interview?” asked Lady Sibba.
“We’re going to meet with her at the end of the term,” said Rinka. “It will give us a bit more time to enjoy each other’s company in case…”
In case it all turned into a disaster. Rinka and Idris could be forced to split at best. At worst, she could be imprisoned for impersonation.
“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” said Alison, squeezing her friend’s hand reassuringly. She meant it—she had seen Idris in action, and she couldn’t imagine him letting anything happen to Rinka.
Alison listened as Rinka told them of her short trip to Arcas Dyrne, where they had visited Rinka’s father, and the trials and tribulations of packing up Idris’s office at the King’s College. As the carriage entered the forest, she was surprised by how dark it became. It was so dark, she could barely see Rinka sitting next to her.
“What trees are those do you think?” asked Alison during a lull in conversation.
“Hmm, some kind of pine,” said Lady Sibba. “Different from the ones in our forest, I’m fairly certain.”
The forest was certainly different here. Alison knew the woods around Herot’s Hollow well, but even the dense tangle of the spriggan’s grove didn’t compare to this. She was reminded of something Aras had said when she’d gone looking for the fairies about fouler things lurking in the woods.
In these woods, she could believe it.
Alison was relieved to reach the gate of High House. But when the servants led them inside, she found it was nearly as dark as Gwenla’s home had been without any of the comfort. There was something unsettling about the sheer number of paintings in the place covering every inch of wall space. It was as though a hundred pairs of eyes followed her every move as she walked down the long corridors. She was grateful her friends were here—she wouldn’t want to be in these hallways alone.
They’d been given several rooms divided by gender, but Idris assured them no one would mind if they switched as long as they didn’t make too much of a fuss about it.
“I’m going to make a quick trip outside,” said Willow once Alison and Keir had settled her into their room. The cat seemed completely undisturbed by their strange surroundings, but Alison was reluctant to let her go by herself.
“I’ll come with you,” said Alison.
She hurried along behind the cat, trying to shake the feeling that she was being followed. Willow chattered away happily, glad to be back on stationary ground once again.
“And we’ll need to find the kitchens soon as well,” said Willow. Alison had missed the first part of what she said. She agreed with her nonetheless.
“What’s the matter with you?” asked Willow as they exited the building into a large courtyard, which was empty except for a single grove of trees in the far corner.
“I don’t know,” said Alison. “I’m tired from our travels, I suppose.” It seemed silly to mention whatever vague sense of wrongness she felt to the cat.
She and Willow headed to the trees to give Willow some privacy, but as they approached, Alison saw that it wasn’t a grove of trees at all.
“It’s all one great tree,” said Alison. She could tell from the way the bark was different in the center—there had been something in the middle that was gone now. It must have been hundreds of years old. She’d need to get Weyland out here to sketch it so she could show the spriggan when they returned to Herot’s Hollow.
As they approached, she saw a small fence had been erected around it. “Don’t go into the middle of it,” she told Willow. “We don’t want to do it harm.”
“What are you doing?” came a voice from beyond the tree.
Alison nearly jumped out of her skin. She hadn’t seen or heard any movement.
She was relieved to see it was merely an elderly dwarf in overalls. The skin on his face was deeply scarred, but it looked like whatever had happened to it had happened long ago. The groundskeeper, she presumed.
“We were just admiring the tree here. Do you know how old it is?”
The groundskeeper’s deeply scarred face was stern. “Don’t go inside that fence there. It’s fragile.”
“Of course we won’t,” said Alison. She took a closer look at the short needles on the low-hanging branches. “It’s a yew?”
“The Norminster Yew,” said the groundskeeper. “Three thousand years old, at least, according to the Dean Whittaker. The former Dean Whittaker, not her son.”
“It’s remarkable,” said Alison.
The groundskeeper smiled. “Aye,” he said. Something ginger and white dashed out from between his legs. “Oy, Barney. Get back here!”
Barney was a dog with long, silky fur and big floppy ears. He had caught the scent of Willow.
He ran up to her, tail wagging, tongue panting, eyes bright and watery.
Willow turned to the side, arching her back and hissing fiercely.
“Willow!” shouted Alison, stepping in between the pair.
“Barney!” shouted the groundskeeper. Barney ran back to the groundskeeper obediently.
“Keep that thing away from me,” said Willow.
Barney and the groundskeeper turned to her in surprise. “Well, I’ll be,” said the groundskeeper. “I haven’t heard a cat talk since I was a boy. Barney, stay.”
The dog did as he was told. The groundskeeper slowly approached Willow.
“Sorry about that, miss,” he said to the cat. “The name is Tomasar, and that’s my dog Barney. He loves cats. He won’t hurt you, but he sure would like to give you a sniff. If you’d let him, that is.”
Tomasar had clearly known cats to be asking for permission.
“He may sniff,” said Willow, holding herself up as much as she could. “But no licking.”
“You heard her, Barn. Don’t lick,” said Tomasar. The dog approached again, this time considerably more cautiously.
Willow allowed him to sniff her, and she even snuck in some sniffs of her own.
To Alison’s surprise, she rubbed her head against him.
“See? He’s a good boy,” said Tomasar. He bent and scratched the dog behind the ears. “We’ll be on our way. It was nice to meet you both.”
Alison realized he hadn’t truly introduced himself to her, but she didn’t correct him. She figured the positive encounter with the cat was enough.
“His fur is very soft,” Willow admitted to Alison once they were out of earshot. “He’ll need to be kept in his place, of course. But I could see him making a good pillow while we’re here.”
Trust the cat to find something soft to lay on the moment they arrived.
Alison waited for Willow to take care of her business behind some bushes near a ruined cloister. A cool breeze blew through it, sending a chill up her spine. She’d need to make sure she kept a jumper with her here. Autumn was well on its way this high in the mountains.
When Willow and Alison returned, plans had already been made to head back into town. Lady Sibba had forgotten to bring some kind of salve, and Idris wanted to avoid dinner with Dean Whittaker.
“He’s far too eager to please,” said Idris.
“But what about Ceri? Don’t you want to say hello?” asked Rinka.
“We’ll see her soon enough, I’m sure. The last thing she wants is her brother hanging around while she meets new people. Which means I won’t let her out of my sight, but I’m sure she can manage one night on her own.”
Alison didn’t admit it to anyone, but she was grateful to have an excuse to leave High House again.
There was something about it that wasn’t quite right.