The Hollow Kingdom (6 page)

Kate went to the window and pulled back the lace to get a better look. The huge cat stared at her steadily.

"No, Em," she said at last. "I don't like it. He may be a normal cat, but I'm not willing to find out. Aunt Prim would never let a cat into the house, anyway, much less a wet one as big as that. And I don't think it'll do any good to tell the aunts he's the same one we saw last night. They don't want to hear about last night at all."

Emily went grumbling off to bed. Kate spent another minute staring out at the cat. Then she dropped the sheer lace and pulled the long, thick curtains over the window. The rainy evening was fast becoming a rainy night. She lit the candle on her dressing table and changed hurriedly for bed.

She fell into a restless slumber, but even in the confused shreds of dreams, she knew she wasn't safe. In her sleep, she was telling Emily
all about it. "Then I heard a click as the window opened," she said, and in that instant Kate was wide awake. The click hadn't been a dream. She craned her neck to see over the footboard. The heavy curtains still covered the window, but they were billowing gently outward as they caught the breeze.

Kate crawled to the bedpost and ducked behind the thick, gathered curtains of the bed. The open window let in all the sounds of a drizzly night: the gentle dripping and tapping, the wind sighing. Another unmistakable sound joined them: slow, heavy footsteps by the window. They wandered in an unhurried fashion down the room as if the unseen caller were looking casually around. They came closer and closer. They were right beside her bed.

Kate let out a scream. "Get out of my room!" Then she ducked down farther and held her breath. Nothing happened. The stillness was profound. She scrambled up and peered into the darkness, but she couldn't see anyone there. The window was closed now, and the curtains hung limp. No footsteps sounded in the room beyond, no movement, no breathing. Long seconds crawled by.

"I'm not in your room," announced Marak's pleasant voice.

Kate froze in horror. Her first instinct was to leap to the door and run away, but he was bound to follow her. If she ran to Emily's room, he might hurt her little sister, and if her great-aunts ever saw such a monster Kate was sure they wouldn't survive it. She stared feverishly into the blackness but saw nothing at all. Where could he be?

She slipped out of bed and crept to her dressing table. Her hands shaking, she struck a match, but her candle blossomed into golden light before the match even caught. She whirled, examining her bedroom by its friendly glow. The room, lit by the single candle flame, seemed full of shadow and menacing beyond words.

"You told me to get out of your room," noted Marak's voice behind her. "Look in the other room, the one you see in your mirror."

Kate turned to face the tall mirror on her dressing table. What she saw could not possibly be. She put a hand on her bedpost to steady herself. The reflection reached out a hand and clutched its bedpost, too. A hand with six fingers. Marak stood facing her in the old tarnished mirror. Kate's own image was gone.

What Marak was, Kate didn't know, but he couldn't be a human, not with that big, bony head and tough, wiry body. The slightly bowed legs and large, knotted hands conveyed the idea of strength without grace. He was wearing a black shirt, breeches, and boots, but he had left the riding cloak at home, and his high, twisted shoulder showed to advantage. His face and hands were a ghastly pale gray, and his lips and fingernails were dark tan--the colors, Kate thought, shuddering, of a corpse pulled out of the water. His dull, straight hair fell, all one length, to his twisted shoulders. Most of it was a very light beige, but over one eye a coal-black patch grew back from the forehead, the long black wisps overlaying the pale hair like a spider's legs. His ears rose to a sharp point that flopped over and stuck out through that rough hair like the ears of a terrier dog.

Most striking of all were Marak's deep-set eyes. The left eye was black; the right, emerald green, and they gleamed at her as if lit from within. Marak's dull hair drifted into his face where the cowlick didn't push it out, so his black eye shone through a pale curtain.

This grotesque vision rendered Kate incapable of action for a minute. As her wits began to return, a grim resignation came with them. Em and the aunts were weaker than she was. She would have to face him alone. She took a step toward the frightful image and groped for the bench, seating herself unsteadily before the mirror. The monstrous reflection moved as she did, sinking down upon its own bench. Those odd eyes watched her attentively and shrewdly, and Marak grinned at her. Kate stared in fascinated revulsion. His teeth, small and even, were a dark silver-gray, and they were sharper than proper teeth should be.

Everything about this creature was inhumanly freakish, inhumanly ugly, and she was very grateful that it was not in the same room with her. The mirror was between them. Or--was it? Suppose he could just grab her with those corpse's hands? She held her breath and reached out to feel the mirror, and the figure beyond slowly reached out its hand as well. They came closer and closer together until Kate felt something cold brush her fingertips.

A second later she was on her feet by the bed, gasping for air, the overturned bench hitting the floor in front of her. Marak sprang up to copy, but he failed in the pantomime. Instead, he clung to the bedpost, whooping with laughter.

"You should have seen your face!" he hooted. "I had no idea that touching glass could be so alarming!"

Kate drew long breaths, her fright giving way to indignation. Yes, that was this creature's other characteristic, she remembered with disgust. Inhumanly ugly and, as far as she could tell, inhumanly rude.

"I never saw anyone move so fast! You should have seen yourself!"

Kate eyed him balefully, furious at being laughed at. This is the last time, she vowed firmly, that I give him that satisfaction. She righted the upset bench as calmly as she could and sat down shakily. Marak moved to do the same, not bothering to copy her this time. He just pulled the bench up and sat down as if they were across a normal table instead of across magical dimensions. Then he propped an elbow on his dressing table and leaned his cheek on one big, knotted hand, looking out at her expectantly.

"Yes, I should have seen myself," said Kate, finding her voice with an effort. "I'm looking in a mirror, aren't I? I want my reflection back where it belongs."

"I'll be your reflection," Marak teased. "You'll come and sit before me, and I'll tell you how beautiful you are. I'll tell you that
there's no woman in the whole land to compare with you, just like magical mirrors are supposed to."

Kate decided to ignore his impertinence. It was the only ladylike thing to do. "Why did you come here?" she demanded angrily. "Why are you bothering me?"

"I'm here tonight for the same reason that I was here last night," he replied. "Are you sure you really want to know why? You look a little upset." He crossed his wiry arms and leaned forward to study her carefully. "There's no insanity in your family, is there?"

The irony of this question coming out of the mouth of a grotesque illusion left Kate speechless for a few seconds. Insanity? Not until he came along. She shrugged, looking blank.

"No insanity," Marak concluded in relief. "That's good. You do keep surprising me," he admitted. "I thought I had you sound asleep. Then there you were, sitting up and shrieking like a teakettle. Really, Kate!" he reproved, shaking his bony head at her. "What if someone had heard you?"

"Are you a ghost?" Kate asked quickly before she could lose her nerve. Suppose he did something dreadful!

"No," he answered. "I am alive, just as you are."

"Then you're a devil?" she guessed.

"How wicked do you think I am?" He chuckled. "You think I'm evil incarnate just because I irritate you? There must be a special place in hell for people who use your first name without permission." He threw back his head and laughed loudly at his own joke.

Kate glared at him in embarrassed rage. "Then what are you?" she demanded.

Marak considered her shrewdly.

"I'm a goblin," he replied and grinned at her. Kate shuddered. Those frightful teeth! She stared at him, completely at a loss. She tried to think of everything she had ever heard about goblins, but it wasn't much.

Marak watched her with interest, waiting to see what she would say next. "Just what is a goblin?" he prompted the confused Kate. She rallied before he could make fun of her.

"Something rude," she stated emphatically. He was helpless with laughter.

"Oh, Kate, I do like you," he confessed. "You're quite a welcome surprise. So you don't know what a goblin is. I'll tell you, then. It is a creature of the race begun by the First Fathers, made with their magic as they drew on the strength of all the other creatures to produce their children. And the goblin you see before you is Marak, the King, the direct descendant of the Greatest of the First Fathers of our race.

"In each generation since the very beginning," he said, "the King's Wife has borne only one child, and that child is always a son. Each son has become Marak in his turn. The King is the guardian and source of the magical gifts of our race. Without the King, the race is lost." He paused and considered her thoughtfully.

"But this King's first wife has died without leaving a son," he told her.

Kate eyed the grotesque goblin uneasily. What should one say to a monster who has lost his spouse? Her upbringing had not prepared her for moments like this.

"Shall I tell you what your mirror sees?" Marak went on. Kate frowned and looked away, expecting more teasing. "I see a young human woman who is astonishingly beautiful," he said. Surprised, Kate eyed him warily. "And who has demonstrated a courage, intelligence, and resourcefulness that I did not at all expect. In short, I see an ideal King's Wife."

It took Kate a few seconds to comprehend, and then her blood froze in her veins. She couldn't move or speak, though she was vaguely aware that the ugly creature was watching her with concern. The room began to grow dim around her.

"Kate," said that commanding voice, "you are having a horrible nightmare." She heard him over the roaring in her ears. It was the only thing he had said that made sense. "Lie down now." Kate put her head down on a pillow. A blanket came over her. She felt its warm touch against her cheek.

"Sleep well, with no more nightmares," concluded the voice. "When you wake up, you will be refreshed. But you will remember everything that has happened tonight in perfect detail."

The candle snuffed out, and the mirror went blank, but Kate didn't notice. She was already sleeping soundly and peacefully, carrying out the goblin King's orders to the letter.

"Wake up! Are you going to sleep all day?"

Kate opened her eyes and blinked drowsily. Aunt Prim pushed back the curtains and unlatched the window as Emily sat down next to Kate. A fresh, cool breeze flowed into the room. Outside, Kate could see green leaves glowing in the bright morning sun.

"How are you, dear?" asked Prim cautiously, coming over. "Emily said she heard you crying out and talking in your sleep. I'm sorry I didn't hear you. Are you feeling any better?"

"I feel wonderful." Kate smiled up at her. "I slept so well that I'm completely refreshed." She frowned. "But then, I had to, didn't I?" she added bitterly. Emily and Aunt Prim exchanged puzzled glances.

"Well, dear," Prim said anxiously, "we're going down to the Hall for the day, but I think perhaps you should stay home and rest."

Kate climbed out of bed. "Oh, no," she declared. "I don't want to miss a lovely morning like this. Mrs. Bigelow is bound to have a wonderful meal planned for us at the Hall. I'll be ready in just a few minutes," she promised, and shooed the two of them out the door.

Feeling bold, she hurried to her dressing table. She sat for a moment and examined her reflection closely, but the mirror behaved in every respect like a good mirror should. It reflected a cozy, personable room and the glorious day outside. There was nothing to
indicate the strange happenings of the night before. Nothing, that is, beyond her own peculiar expression. One cannot look entirely ordinary, she considered, after such a horrifying event. Or, although she failed to realize it, after being told one is astonishingly beautiful. She did linger just a minute longer than usual before the glass, turning her head to catch a view of her profile. Then she remembered the goblin's proposal to flatter her whenever she came near the mirror and jumped up in a huff.

Kate dressed hastily, splashing her face with cold water to bring the color to her pale cheeks. She brushed her hair at the mirror and tried not to think about what she had seen there, but her strange visitor's every gesture, every word came clearly to mind. She could practically relive the night's events. What had he said? "You will remember everything that has happened tonight in perfect detail."

Good spirits waning, she went to the window to clear her thoughts. No giant black cat waited outside, but a dingy gray squirrel crouched on the tree limb by her room, right where the cat had been. It was facing her window, and Kate had the distinct impression that it was watching her.

She came out to the waiting carriage with a brave smile for her worried aunts, but when a small squirrel came leaping down to the gravel path beside her, she brandished her fist at it and chased it away. She turned back to find all three occupants of the carriage staring at her in bewildered alarm.

"Heavens, Kate!" reproved her sister. "Bullying a squirrel!"

"Hush, Emily!" Prim scolded sharply as she and Celia exchanged anxious glances.

They arrived at the Hall, and the aunts swept in, greeting Mrs. Bigelow. Kate straggled behind, uneasy and irritable. At the door, Emily paused and looked back. She caught Kate's arm with a grin and pointed at the carriage.

There on the roof crouched the squirrel. It sat up, chattering, and waved its tail at her. Kate had a vision of herself chasing it headlong down the gravel track, yelling like a banshee. No, perhaps she'd better not. She gathered the shreds of her composure about her and stepped through the door. If she shut it behind her with more force than necessary, she was unaware of it. Occupied with her own thoughts, she didn't see the shocked glances of her aunts as she walked past them to take her place in the dining room. Mrs. Bigelow sat down with the family and summoned the staff to begin serving the meal.