Peter and the Shadow Thieves (46 page)

“But—”

“Isn’t
that right, Father
? Answer me.”

Aster hung his head. “Yes.”

“Then you can’t do it,” she said. “You
can’t.
”

Aster looked at his daughter, and now both of their faces glistened with tears.

“Mol y,” he whispered, “I’m afraid I have no choice.”

G
EORGE AND PETER sat next to each other at a rough plank table, chewing hard. Neither boy had said a word since they’d entered the pantry and discovered a loaf of fresh-baked brown bread and a hefty block of Wiltshire cheese. They were now consuming these as fast as they could, each wanting to be sure the other boy didn’t get more. Both were good competitive eaters, Peter having trained at St. Norbert’s Home for Wayward Boys, and George at boarding school.

They were eating ravenously in silence when Mol y burst through the pantry door. It hit the wal with a loud
thwack.
Mol y’s eyes were red and swol en, and her face glistened with tears. George and Peter stood, both eyeing what remained of the torn loaf.

“Mol y, what’s wrong?” said Peter, his mouth spewing bread crumbs.

“We’re leaving,” said Mol y.

“
Leaving
?” said George, ejecting a chunk of cheese. “Now?”

“Yes,
now,
” said Mol y. “We must return to London immediately.”

“But why?” said Peter. “We just got here.”

“To rescue Mother,” said Mol y.

“But I thought your father—” began Peter.

“My
father,
” said Mol y, interrupting, “doesn’t care about Mother.”

Peter swal owed a chunk of bread with some difficulty and was about to speak when Leonard Aster appeared in the doorway behind Mol y, his expression stern.

“Mol y,” Aster said, “that’s quite enough.”

Mol y ignored him.

“I’m leaving,” she said to Peter and George. “You can go with me or stay here, as you choose.”

“Mol y,” said Aster. “You are
not
leaving.”

“Yes, I am,” she said.

“No,” said Aster. “You are my daughter, and you shal do as I say. I wil not have you wandering the countryside at night.
Especially
not this night.” Mol y stared at her father, then nodded slowly. “So it’s to be tonight,” she said. “The Return is tonight.”

“Mol y,” said Aster, glancing at George. “You mustn’t—”

“I don’t
care
!” shouted Mol y. “I don’t care if George finds out about the Return. I don’t
care
about you and your starstuff and—”

“
Molly!
” Aster grabbed his daughter by the arms, pressed his face to hers. “You must
not
talk about these things.” Mol y jerked herself free.

“I don’t care!” she shouted. “Al I care about is Mother.”

“And you think I
don’t
?” he asked.

“If you cared,” said Mol y, “you’d save her.”

“And you must believe me,” he said. “I shal do everything in my power to do just that.”

“Except,” she said, “the one thing that
would
save her.”

“Please, Mol y,” Aster said. “Please try to understand.”

He reached out and touched her shoulder gently. She pushed his hand away. Aster stared at his daughter for a few moments, weariness and sorrow furrowing his face. Then he turned his attention to Peter and George, neither of whom had moved a muscle.

“I’m sorry you had to see this,” he said. “This is a…a very difficult time for us.”

Neither boy spoke.

“First thing tomorrow,” said Aster, “I wil arrange to send you al back to London. But for tonight you must remain here. I’m going out for several hours with Mister Magil —the man who, ah, greeted you at the gate. The three of you wil be safe and comfortable here. You must not, under any circumstances, try to leave.” Aster looked pointedly at Mol y. “The house wil be watched. If you
do
try to leave, you wil be prevented from doing so in a manner that I regret to say could be quite unpleasant. Do you understand me?” Peter and George, remembering the bear and the wolves, nodded. Mol y did not react.

“Al right, then,” said Aster. He looked at Mol y again, as if about to say something more, shook his head, then left.

The next half hour passed in unhappy silence. Mol y sat at the pantry table, staring straight ahead, resisting Peter’s and George’s awkward attempts to console her. George was clearly eager to ask questions about the confrontation between Mol y and her father, but sensing that this was not a good time, he managed to restrain himself.

The silence was broken by the sound of horses outside, and the crunch of wheels on gravel. Mol y, Peter, and George exchanged glances, then ran to the large main room and looked out the window. By the light of the moon, now high in the cloudless sky, they saw three horses, two of them hitched to a wagon. They also saw Leonard Aster put a large cloth sack into the wagon. From out of the shadows appeared the large bearded man, Magil , holding a rol ed-up piece of canvas. Behind him shuffled Karl the bear. The bear was carrying a trunk made of smooth, dark wood, with hinges and latches that gleamed gold in the moonlight.

“There it is,” said Peter.

“There
what
is?” said George.

“Be quiet,” said Mol y.

Karl laid the trunk gently in the wagon bed and slid it forward, then climbed in after it, moving with surprising speed and grace despite his massive bulk. The bear lay down next to the trunk. Magil covered both bear and trunk with the piece of canvas, then climbed onto the wagon seat and picked up the reins. He and Aster exchanged a few words, then Aster mounted the horse. Magil raised his head and made some of the odd barking sounds he’d made earlier; then he cocked his ear, listening. He nodded at Aster, and both men flicked their reins, starting up the driveway.

At the end of the drive, Aster dismounted and opened the gate. When the wagon had passed through to the road, Aster led his horse through, closed the gate, locked it, and remounted. In a moment the little procession was gone from view.

“Al right,” said George. “I have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Be qu—” began Mol y.

“
No,
” said George. “I wil
not
be quiet. I am sick and tired of not knowing what’s happening. Without me, you’d never have gotten as far as Salisbury, let alone found this house.

I’ve spent a good deal of time
and
money on your little quest, Mol y, not to mention risking being eaten by wolves. I think I’m entitled to some sort of explanation.” Mol y sighed. “Al right,” she said.

“Mol y—” Peter warned.

“No,” said Mol y. “George is right. He’s been a loyal friend, and without him we’d never have gotten this far. He’s put his life at risk for me. I owe him the truth.” She looked out the window. “And I don’t much care about Father’s precious secrets now anyway,” she added bitterly.

Peter shook his head, but said nothing.

“My family,” Mol y said to George, “belongs to a group that for centuries has been protecting a very precious, but very dangerous, substance.”

“This ‘starstuff,’” said George.

“Yes,” said Mol y. “That’s what’s in the trunk you just saw.”

“What is it?” said George.

“It’s something that fal s from the sky,” said Mol y. “It has amazing powers. Magical powers.”

“
Magical
powers?”

“Yes.”

George looked skeptical. “Mol y,” he said, “I’m a student of astronomy. I know quite a bit about what fal s from the sky. It’s rocks, Mol y. Just rocks. I’ve never heard of any…

starstuff.”

Peter smirked.

“What’s so funny?” said George.

“Nothing,” said Peter.

“The reason you haven’t heard of starstuff,” said Mol y, “is that Father’s group works very hard to keep it secret. They col ect it when it fal s, so that people, especial y evil people, can’t get hold of it.”

George’s expression remained skeptical. “And what do they do with it?”

“They return it.”

“Return it to where?” said George, smiling. “To the heavens?”

“Yes.”

“But that’s impossible!” sputtered George.

“Apparently, it’s not,” said Mol y. “They’ve been doing it for centuries.”

“But how?”

“I don’t know,” said Mol y. “I’ve never seen it done. Very few have.”

“So you don’t
know
that this Return thing actual y happens,” said George, in a tone that Peter found quite irritating. Mol y, for her part, remained calm.

“It happens,” she said. “That’s where Father has gone now.”

“I see,” said George doubtful y. “And these…evil people you’re keeping the starstuff from,” he said. “Are they the ones who kidnapped your mother?”

“Yes,” she said. “Their leader is this hideous creature, Lord Ombra. He has terrible powers. He can take a person’s—” Mol y paused, and decided that if George was skeptical about starstuff, he’d be even more so about Ombra’s peculiar and fearsome abilities. “He’s very powerful,” she went on. “And ruthless.”

“And where is this…Ombra now?” said George.

“In London,” said Mol y. “He took Mother to exchange her for the starstuff. But Father refuses to make the exchange. And Ombra said that if he doesn’t get the starstuff, he wil …

wil —” Mol y fought to control her voice. “He wil kil my mother.” Mol y put her face in her hands, sobbing.

“Perhaps he’s just bluffing,” George said softly.

Mol y shook her head. “No,” she said. “He’l do it. He’s a horrible, horrible creature. Peter and I saw him kil a man, an old friend of my family.” In that instant a picture came into Mol y’s mind—a vivid image of McGuinn’s desperate effort to fend off the relentlessly advancing Ombra, and his fatal fal on the steep stairs of the White Tower. “He won’t hesitate to—” Mol y stopped.

“Oh, dear,” she said.

“What is it?” said George.

Mol y ignored him. “Peter,” she said, her tone urgent. “Do you remember when Ombra chased us down the stairs at the tower, and Mister McGuinn fel ?”

“Yes,” said Peter. “I won’t soon forget
that.
”

“Did Ombra touch his shadow?”

“McGuinn’s?”

“Yes,” said Mol y. “Think, Peter. Did he touch it?”

Peter thought back to the terrifying confusion on the dark, narrow staircase—McGuinn swinging the lantern, trying desperately to fend off Ombra, then Ombra’s sudden darting attack, and McGuinn’s scream just as he lost his balance….

Peter frowned, trying to trap that instant in his mind. Then he nodded. “Yes,” he said. “It was just for a moment, before he fel . But yes, I think Ombra touched his shadow.”

“I think so, too,” said Mol y.

“I don’t understand,” said George. “What difference does it make if he touched his shadow?”

“McGuinn knew the site of the Return,” said Mol y. “He wouldn’t tel us, but he knew. And if he knew, and Ombra got his shadow—”

“—then Ombra knows where the Return is,” said Peter.

George said, “But how does touching a person’s shadow—”

“Not now, George,” said Mol y, waving away his question. “Peter, I feel such a fool. Father asked me several times whose shadows Ombra took, and somehow I never thought of McGuinn.”

“It was just for an instant,” said Peter. “We don’t
know
that Ombra found out.”

“But he
could
have,” said Mol y.

“Yes,” said Peter. “I suppose he could have.”

“And if he did,” said Mol y, “he’l be at the Return now. He’l be waiting for Father.”

She and Peter stared at each other.

“I have to warn Father,” she said. She ran to the door and grabbed the latch.

A sharp warning chime sounded from under Peter’s shirt.

She’d better not open that.

“Mol y!” shouted Peter, running toward her. “Don’t—”

Too late: Mol y had the door open. She screamed and slammed it shut.

Peter got only a moment’s glimpse of the huge gray shape on the doorstep.

“Wolf,” Mol y gasped.

I told her.

“What’s that ringing sound?” said George.

Ignoring him, Mol y went to the window.

“There must be half a dozen out there,” she said.

Peter and George, joining her, saw the dark shapes, the glowing eyes.

“I don’t think they want us to leave,” said George.

Mol y’s shoulders slumped. “No,” she said.

“Mol y,” said Peter. “I can leave.”

“How?” snorted George. “Do you intend to
fly
over the wolves?”

“Yes,” said Peter.

George turned to Mol y: “Has he gone mad?”

She ignored him, speaking to Peter. “It’s no use,” she said. “We don’t know where the Return is. Father’s been gone a half hour or more, on horseback. He could be anywhere.

How wil you find him in the dark? How wil you even know which direction to go?”

“I can try,” said Peter. “I’ve got a ful moon to help me.”

Mol y shook her head. “You don’t know this countryside, Peter. Without knowing where the Return is, you’l just get lost flying ’round out there.”

“But what choice do we have?” said Peter.

“I don’t know,” said Mol y, staring hopelessly out the window.

“Hang on,” said George.