The High House (13 page)

“Always comforting, eh, Chant?” Carter said as he opened the door and entered the small study. He glanced around at the kidney-shaped desk, the dark leather chair, the white marble fireplace. The day shone dully through the stained-glass angel; the gas jets in the buttercup lamps sang their soft fire-song.

“Do you light the lamps each morning?” Carter asked.

“I see they remain lit, but they are always left on,” Chant replied. “All the Masters have required it.”

Carter refrained from asking Chant how old
he
was. Instead he used the tiny key from the drawer to open the bookcase and retrieve the Book of Forgotten Things, which he set carefully upon the desk.

Despite his reluctance, he sat down immediately, gathered his resolve, and opened the book. The scent of dust and leather rose to meet him; the textured pages felt like papyrus beneath his hands. He intended to avert his eyes until the seventh page, but at the sixth he was halted by the rising image of his father and himself, sitting at the drawing room table, in a time before Lady Murmur came to live in the house. His father looked sad and pale, his face like chiseled alabaster.

“There is a sea,” Lord Anderson said, “a vast endless sea, that no man living has ever sailed, with waves all the colors of the rainbow, and a sky of copper and bronze, where flashes of blue lightning pass between azure clouds.”

“And can we sail there?” the little boy asked, his eyes all wonder

“Oh, no,” his father said. “No one can sail it, though it is very beautiful to see. But sometimes, when I stand beside its banks, I think perhaps your mother has gone that way, for it seems to me quite close to heaven, and I see the wind in her hair, and her standing on a fair green shore, waiting for me.”

There were tears in his father’s eyes, and Carter, looking down on his younger self, suddenly remembered there had been tears in his own as well, so that this must have been shortly after his mother’s passing.

Gradually, the image faded, leaving his throat tight. He sighed and turned to page seven.

Four words slowly appeared upon the paper, their letters burning in fire like hot brass. The first two were those he had learned before, the Word of Hope and the Word Which Brings Aid; as his eyes passed over them he felt reassurance and power welling within him, and the thought,
These are mine
, came unbidden. His confidence waned at the third, which was more difficult to look upon, as if it burned brighter, and at first the letters were strangely indecipherable. Under scrutiny, they gradually became clear, and as the Word filled his mind, he had the odd impression that it expanded within him, a looming pressure begging release. It seemed he must speak it or burst, yet it took an effort of will to bring it to his lips:
Sedhattee.
A deep rumble, somewhere overhead, shook the house. He said it again, feeling it burn into his memory. The Word Which Gives Strength.

Already he was weary, as if carrying heavy chains up a steep hill, but he cast his eyes upon the fourth Word and repeated the process.
Talheedin.
He spoke it with effort, wrenching it from his mouth, wrestling it as if it were a man, and as he did he knew it was indeed the Word of Secret Ways, as if the book had known what he sought.

He was drained down to his bones, and his hands trembled as he shut the book. This time, having learned the danger, he felt no temptation to glimpse another page.

He glanced up and found the door closed, neither Chant nor Enoch within the room, and all silent save for the gas jets. Startled by their absence, he quickly locked the volume back within the bookcase and flung the door wide, calling their names. Chant answered from the library and came meekly forward, Enoch trailing behind him, their faces pale.

Enoch cast his eyes down in shame. “I am sorry, Master; the Words were too powerful. They filled the whole room. They crowded us out, though we kept watch from the library.”

Carter, suddenly aware he was drenched in sweat, wiped his brow and gave a wan smile, astonished that such force had been released to drive his trusted servants from his side. “I’ve never doubted you. Come, cheer up, you have done no wrong, and I have what we need. Perhaps it will help.”

He shut the study door and turned to go, but as they crossed the library, he noticed an odd stirring among the shelves, like a heat mirage rising between the aisles, shimmering, the wan sunlight soft upon it, making the fronds in the carpet appear to flutter. He paused to watch the luminance splash across the bookcases, waving like feathers in the breeze, uniting and dispersing, until a shape began to coalesce. Both Enoch and Chant stepped quickly in front of him, and the Windkeep drew a long dagger from somewhere in his breast pocket.

Gradually, the form of a man emerged within the gleaming, an armored figure wearing a peculiar helmet, with metal strips rising from its sides like thin horns squared at the ends. He stepped from among the shelves, a tall fellow, all in white, wearing a close-fitting pearl hauberk, its intricately woven rings glistening as he walked. He had a sword hanging by his side, a shield strapped to his back, and an ivory-handled pistol in a leather holster at his waist. As he approached, glints from his blue eyes flashed in the gloom. He halted a few feet from the men and raised his hand in salute, but Enoch had already put his knife away.

“Greetings to the High House. I am Glis, captain of the White Circle Guard. We have received word from the man, Hope, that we were to come.”

“The White Circle!” Carter said. “Yes, Hope spoke of it. I am Carter Anderson, Steward of the house. This is Enoch and Chant.”

Glis bowed at the waist to Carter, then hurried forward, grinning, to clasp Enoch’s hand. “These I know. How are you, old lion? And you, Chant, have you any more of your splendid poetry for us?”

Enoch returned the grip enthusiastically. “I rejoice to see the face of a friend. The anarchists have locked the passage to the Towers. The Green Door is shut as well.”

“I expected no such news,” Glis said, sobering at once. “I brought only a handful, thinking this a meeting of introduction. Others will be sent for at once; we will rally the entire Circle.”

As he spoke, other warriors, all garbed in white, emerged from the mists of the aisles, lean, powerful men such as Carter had seen in his father’s house as a boy. They numbered less than twenty, but it heartened him to see them. It scarcely surprised him that the library was a passage to other countries; books had always been his route to other lands, at least in spirit, and enchantment had ever lain heavy on the room. He recalled emissaries to his father often emerging from its doors.

The captain gave a message to one of his subordinates, who left at once, passing back between the aisles, fading away among the stacks.

“Have your men eaten?” Carter asked.

“We could use a bit of breakfast. Our coming was more difficult than we expected; all a part of your troubles, I’m certain. There were Things in the darkness last night, fanged beasts and shadowed faces; we slept little, and woke twice to drive them off. I thought it a random attack. I doubt now that it was.”

They led the soldiers out of the library, down the transverse corridor to the dining room. Hope was there, taking notes on a gray pad, with a large volume propped upon the table. He rose quickly at sight of the company pouring like white lions through the doors, and approached the captain without hesitation.

“Captain Glis, I presume? You have the look of command about you. William Hope. Glad you could come. Things are a bit more dire than when I first sent word. Let me find a servant and we will have food brought around.”

Carter sat at the head of the table, Hope to his right, Captain Glis to his left, with Chant and Enoch, having stayed at Carter’s request, farther down among the men. The captain removed his helmet, revealing a dark-haired, handsome face, marred by a three-inch scar across his right cheek, Carter’s elder by less than half a dozen years.

“You will pardon my ignorance,” Carter told him. “Hope tells me the White Circle represents the countries surrounding the Inner Chambers.”

“Correct,” Glis said. “These twenty are my elite guard, one from each of the kingdoms. Blade, there, is from Naleewuath; I understand you recently visited that country. I am from Aylyrium. At need, we can rally a sizable army, whose duty is to protect the whole of the Circle, and, of course, the Inner Chambers. Tell me your situation.”

With Hope’s help, Carter recounted their crisis, after which the captain looked grave. “Much of this is beyond our power to relieve. The loss of the Master Keys has been a terrible thing; since your father’s day we had no luck finding them. But clearly they must be retaken. We will do what we can. Our first priority is the defense of the house. I will station guards at the Green Door and the stairs to the Towers, as well as the library doors, since the previous assault came from there. We can at least prevent the situation from worsening.”

With nothing more to be decided, Carter questioned the captain concerning the White Circle, and Glis told him of that fair ring of countries, of the halls of Aylyrium, its palace walls mosaics of silvered splendor, its princes tall but delicate as porphyry; of Moomuth Kethorvian, its monolithic standing stones, expansive halls like deserts, and gaping idols made by a people no longer remembered; of High Gable, built on shelves upon the rooftops like eagles’ aeries; of Westwing, which has two kings and where no man may carry a sword; and Himnerhin where are the best craftsmen in iron and leather, and where sweet peaches grow indoors in orchards spanning leagues; of many-spired Ooz where all the shutters are crimson; and the harbors of North Lowing, where wide rivers run right through the house and wild deer are hunted upon the stairs. All these he had witnessed, for he had traveled much in his life, and Carter realized what a great unseen land stood roundabout, a true circle of countries, with the High House as its hub. Beyond that, the captain said, were stranger lands, such as Ephiny Edge and Darking, some desolate wastes, some controlled by allies to the anarchists, others great kingdoms of their own, but even these were connected to Evenmere as well, in what Carter could only imagine as another, outer circle. And still the house went on, into legends and stories, and kingdoms beyond the ken of men.

They spoke through the morning, with Hope taking notes, so that when Glis finally left to inspect his men, the lawyer had filled eight pages. Everyone else had departed, and Carter slumped in his chair.

“A bit overwhelming,” Hope said.

“More than a bit,” Carter said. “I begin to see how important Brittle was to the entire house. He must have been my father’s ambassador, his counselor, and his friend. Odd that I never knew; I saw him simply as an old servant.”

“Ahh, but aren’t the oldest friends the best servants?” Hope asked. “What do we do for our friends but serve them, even as they serve us?”

“I suppose so, but I find I haven’t made any close friends in my life. I was considered strange to those outside the house; I shouldn’t wonder why, growing up here. What should I do?”

“You must find someone you trust to fill the opening. I can do initial research for you, but eventually you will need to hire a permanent butler.”

“That may take some time. But perhaps you might consider staying on as ambassador and advisor?”

Hope frowned thoughtfully, his round face open and honest. “I hadn’t considered it. You haven’t known me long. As your advisor I would advise you not to hire anyone too hastily.”

Carter laughed. “You already give good counsel. I feel we could work together. I’m certain I could offer you a decent wage, and, of course, room and board. Consider it. We could attempt it on a trial if you like, to see how it works.”

Hope smiled. “Following my current course, I am unlikely to become an ambassador to anywhere. I should like to give it a try. Of course, if it works out, eventually I will need to return to Dyson, Phillips, and Hope to conclude my business and retrieve my personal things. But here is an opportunity I can’t refuse!”

The two shook hands warmly. “We’re in it together, then,” Carter said. “But you haven’t seen proof of my claims yet. No behemoths in the attic.”

“But I have seen a battle in a dream and a company of knights in mail. I have also been looking out the windows since Chant told his story this morning. At each of the four cardinal points I saw an English bobby stationed beside the lamppost. From a distance, every officer appears identical. Can our enemy be in more than one place at once? Or are these his servants, similarly guised? I will not require the dinosaur. Honestly, I’ve come to fear the thought of seeing him. What will you do next?”

“I need to use the Word of Secret Ways, to find a new passage to the Towers, but I don’t know if I have the strength. Reading the Words has wrung me out completely. When I spoke the Word Which Brings Aid, back in Naleewuath, it was like hurling a shot. I believe attempting to speak a Word of Power and failing to bring it forth could be dangerous, perhaps catastrophic. Am I being cowardly? The need is urgent.”

Hope pondered a moment. “Having no other guide, you should follow your instincts and recuperate a bit. I will do my best to monitor the goings-on in the house. Captain Glis appears competent, and there is little more to do.”

Carter complied at once, and found himself actually stumbling as he made his way up the stairs. At its top he encountered Lady Murmur and Duskin coming down the hall. He had not seen them since his return from Naleewuath, had scarcely seen them at all since their first meeting, in fact, and had no desire to do so now.

“Lady Murmur,” he said with a nod, hoping to simply pass.

“Carter,” she said, smiling, reminding him of a fox. Only the fangs were missing. “I understand there has been trouble in the house.”

“Somewhat.”

“If only your father were here. He would know what to do. A pity he did not train you. If we can help, let us know. Despite Duskin’s earlier, regrettable words, he wants only what is best for Evenmere, as do I.”

Duskin, scowling, did not look like he wanted the best for anything.