The Vault of Destinies (James Potter #3) (69 page)

"Oh, let them in, Harding," a girl said from a nearby sofa. "Who cares? Remora isn't even here."

"This kid's no vampire, no matter what these cretins say," the boy, Harding, declared, narrowing his eyes, his nostrils flaring. "No vampire,
no
entry."

"But look at his teeth," Ralph insisted, guiding Went under the nearest chandelier. "They may not be the sorts of fangs you read about in Professor Remora's books, but they're plenty pointy if you look at them in the right light. Show them, Went. See?"

"Anyone can hex a pair of fangs," Harding replied, rolling his eyes.

"Let me take a look at the boy," another voice said, its tone polite but commanding. James glanced around. The portrait of the stern-faced man with the pointed beard was staring down at them from the lower landing. Harding looked from the portrait to Wentworth, considering. Finally, reluctantly, the taller boy nodded toward the landing.

"Make it quick and then vanish, why don't you?" he growled.

James, Zane, and Ralph followed Wentworth closely, crowding up onto the landing. The portrait narrowed its eyes at the small boy. James glanced at the little brass plaque affixed to the bottom of the portrait's round frame. It read, '
Niles Covington Erebus III
'.

"Only moderately developed in the canines," the portrait said thoughtfully. "But real enough, I suspect. Hmm. There's only one way to know for certain. Mr. Harding, if you would turn me around, please."

Obediently, the sneering boy climbed onto the landing and sidled toward the painting. Eyes still narrowed at Wentworth, he lifted the painting of Niles Erebus from the wall. When he turned it around, James was surprised to see that the rear of the painting was a mirror.

"Look at yourself, young man," Erebus said, apparently speaking to Wentworth.

Comically, everyone on the landing leaned toward the mirror.

"HO-leee HINKYpunks!" Zane breathed in amazement. "Went! Where are you?"

Still peering into the mirror, James reached aside with his right hand. His fingers patted Wentworth on the face, knocking the boy's glasses askew. In the mirror, however, James' fingers moved over empty space.

"Hey," Wentworth said, annoyed, straightening his glasses. "Quit it, already."

"He's not there!" Ralph exclaimed. "He's invisible in the mirror!"

"I don't see what the big deal is," Wentworth announced wearily. "It's not like some kind of superpower or anything. You have any idea how hard it is to comb your hair if you can't see yourself in a mirror?"

"Well, Mr. Harding," the portrait of Erebus said from the reverse side of the Mirror, "it would appear that this young man is, indeed, the real article. According to the house rules, he and his guests must be granted entrance."

"But," Harding said, disgusted, "
look
at him!
That's
not what a vampire is supposed to look like!"

"And you are an expert on these things, of course," Erebus sighed. "Fear not. I will accompany our guests during their visit and assure that they do not wander where they are unwelcome. After all, being granted entrance does not amount to
carte blanche
access to anywhere they wish, does it?"

"It sure doesn't," Harding nodded dourly. He sneered at Zane again and then, rather stiffly, handed him the small portrait. "Enjoy your stay,
gentlemen
."

"Thanks, Harding," Zane grinned, taking the portrait. "Your vigilance is inspiring. I'll put in a good word for you with all the other vampires I know." He winked at the older boy.

"Well then, my friends," Erebus said briskly as Harding skulked back down to the parlor, "now that you have attained something approaching a
legitimate
entrance, I believe you were on your way to the upper corridor. Shall we proceed together this time with better luck?"

Over the course of the next hour, James, Ralph, Wentworth, and Zane wandered the myriad halls, landings, secret stairways, hidden chambers, dens, bathrooms, and various common spaces of the castle, all the while listening to an informative, if slightly pedantic monologue from Erebus' portrait about the details of each space. Apart from being somewhat amazed at the sheer number of rooms crammed into the castle, the boys found nothing that illuminated the riddle of Ignatius Magnussen's dimensional key.

"I don't get it," Zane finally proclaimed, plopping onto a chair on the third-floor landing. "How'd the quote go? 'The truth walked the halls of Erebus Castle,' right? Well, we've walked more halls than I can count and I didn't encounter any truth. Did you?"

James shook his head. "I didn't realize it would be this hard. I thought once we got inside, it'd just make sense, somehow."

"Might I inquire," the portrait of Niles Erebus said with a somewhat impatient sniff, "what you gentlemen are talking about?"

"You got me," Wentworth announced, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "I'm just the token vampire. I decided these three were totally nuts three floors ago."

"It's this riddle we heard," Ralph admitted, leaning the portrait on a windowsill so he could look at it. "Some old professor from a long time ago said it: the truth walked the halls of Erebus Castle. You seem to know an awful lot about this place. Any ideas what it might mean?"

"I
built
this castle," Erebus said, bristling. "I should think I would know everything that could possibly be known about it. Your riddle, however, is rather hopelessly obtuse. Without any sort of context, it could mean anything at all."

James sighed. "What a complete waste of time. It was probably just something Magnussen made up after all, just to throw everyone off his trail."

"Magnussen, you say?" the portrait asked, raising one eyebrow. "Ignatius Magnussen?"

"Yeah," Ralph replied, perking up a little. "You know anything about him?"

"Virtually nothing," Erebus answered dismissively. "He was rather after my time as you've apparently failed to notice. In my current state, however, I do recall seeing him visit the castle from time to time. The man had a bit of a fascination, it seemed."

"How'd he get in?" James asked. "He wasn't a vampire too, was he?"

Erebus rolled his eyes impatiently. "
Obviously
the rules of entrance do not apply to faculty and administration, young man. Every house is regularly frequented by professors from different societies, both for social and academic reasons."

"So where did Magnussen go when
he
was here?" Zane asked impatiently.

"I did not have to chaperone him during his visits," Erebus answered disdainfully. "But I do recall that he took copious notes about some of the tapestries."

Zane looked hard at James, his eyebrows raised. "Tapestries," he repeated. "Can we, maybe, see these tapestries?"

Erebus sighed dramatically. "Second floor," he drawled. "North corridor. And do try not to carry my frame like that, young man. There might be less pleasant views in the world than your armpit, but I am hard-pressed to think of any at the moment."

"Sorry," Ralph muttered, taking the frame from beneath his arm.

When they finally arrived at the second-floor corridor, James was surprised to find that they had somehow missed this area during their earlier tour. The corridor was quite high, lined with windows on one side and very old floor-length tapestries on the other. The windows were covered with thick golden curtains, pulled tightly closed.

"It's so dark," Ralph said, creeping slowly into the hall. "I can barely see in here."

"
Luminos,"
the portrait of Erebus said in a low voice. In response, a series of crystal chandeliers began to glow, flames growing silently from their previously unlit candles.

"The tapestries are quite ancient," Erebus explained as the boys walked along the corridor, watching as the candlelight flickered over the woven images. "Erebus family treasures, in fact, passed down through many generations. Sunlight has faded them over the centuries, thus they are now kept secluded in darkness, preserved as well as they can be."

James took a step closer to the first of the huge tapestries. The threadwork was very fine, reminding him of the neat weaving of the Loom of Destinies. Unlike the Loom, however, the images shown here were not abstract. Each illustration was skillfully rendered, even lifelike. James almost expected them to begin moving.

"It looks like they tell a story," Wentworth commented, his voice unconsciously hushed.

"An astute observation, my friend," Erebus replied. "These are, in fact, a complete series, telling an ancient tale known as the Ballad of the Rider."

"I've never heard of it," Zane commented.

Erebus chuckled humorlessly. "Nor am I surprised. It is not the sort of tale the wizarding world tends to repeat. It is a tragedy, in fact, and a very dark one."

James peered up at the nearest tapestry again. On it, a tall, grave man with a black beard sat upon a horse. On closer inspection, James realized that the horse was, in fact, a unicorn, dappled grey, with powerful forelegs and a mane of shimmering gold. Every line and thread of the image implied that the rider and the unicorn were regal, solemn, almost glorious. Behind them, a wildly colourful and ornate starburst stretched from one edge of the tapestry to the other. Along the bottom were dozens of hands and faces, all leering up toward the Rider, pointing, shouting, crying carefully woven blue tears of delight or terror.

"What's happening in this one?" James asked, a little breathlessly.

"That," Erebus intoned solemnly, "is the arrival of the Rider. According to the Ballad, his coming was marked by a blinding curtain of light, as if one of the very stars had descended from the night sky and settled, for one twinkling moment, on a hilltop. The Rider appeared from within the light, which vanished behind him. This was in the Dark Ages of Europe, and as you might imagine, his arrival caused great fear among those who witnessed it. The Rider explained himself, however, describing his home in a different reality, one similar to our own, but utterly peaceful and advanced in both the healing and magical arts. To prove his assertions, he described the process by which his world's foremost witches and wizards had discovered the existence of other realities and learned how they were all bound together by one central core: the Nexus. Using their arts, they created a portal into the Nexus with hopes of reaching out to other dimensions. His purpose, he claimed, was to venture into less fortunate realities and share the wealth of their learning."

"The Nexus," Zane whispered, nodding. "This fits perfectly with everything we've heard about the Nexus Curtain and the World Between the Worlds."

Together, the four boys drifted toward the next tapestry. This one showed the bearded Rider standing at the head of a table, surrounded by seated witches and wizards. The Rider's posture implied that he was speaking, his arm raised in a gesture of conjuring. Over the table hovered a fanciful representation of a globe, covered with jungles, mountains, waterfalls, and placid oceans. The globe's continents were dotted with magnificent cities, its oceans streaked by sailing vessels with bright blue sails. The vision was contrived to seem as if it was spreading beams of light all around the room, but the listeners at the table seemed not to notice. Their faces were caricatures of wickedness: porcine and bloated, grinning and narrow-eyed, some with their heads bowed together in obvious conspiracy.

"Ohhh," Ralph said, nodding with realization. "He's describing his dimension to everybody."

"Doesn't much look like they're listening though," James added.

Erebus frowned inside his frame. "Indeed not. The Rider fell into the council of greedy witches and wizards, who were far less interested in the gifts of his enlightenment than they were the dark magic they believed could be gleaned from him and his unicorn. Until then, there had been no such beasts in our world, you see, and these crafty witches and wizards instinctively understood that this was a creature of fabulous power. Thus, they bided their time, pretending to listen, all the while plotting how to steal the man's magic and use it against him. In truth, their intention, horribly, was to learn the use of the Rider's portal and invade his reality, taking whatever they wished by force and domination."

"Some welcoming committee," Wentworth said sourly.

Zane asked, "So were they able to do it?"

"Fortunately for us, they were not," Erebus replied. "Had their scheme succeeded, our own reality would surely have descended into horrors, taking many more with it, perhaps even to destruction. The balance of the Destinies prevailed, however, halting their evil plans, but not without cost."

The group stood before the third tapestry now. On it, men in dark robes crowded around the unicorn, which was reared on its hind hooves, pawing at the air, its teeth bared in desperation. Around its neck and connected to the fists of its dark adversaries was a collection of restraining ropes. Worse, a crooked dagger was raised in the hand of one of the dark wizards, pointing toward the unicorn's dappled flank. In the foreground, the Rider seemed to be in a duel with several of the dark wizards, his face noble yet resigned, as he was hopelessly outnumbered by his foes.

Erebus spoke, continuing his recitation of the Ballad. "Once the horrid plan was placed into action, the Rider was imprisoned. His unicorn was experimented upon and forced to breed with common horses, all in an attempt to create more of its kind. This, of course, is the origin of the few unicorns that still roam the deepest woods of our day, less powerful than their noble ancestor, but still glorious. In the end, the Rider succeeded in mustering his powers for an escape. Being peaceful, he attempted to spare his captors' lives, but they viewed his mercy as weakness. In the end, they chased him and his unicorn down, subduing them both by sheer numbers. Unable to wrest the secret of the Nexus from him, they eventually killed him and hopelessly wounded his unicorn at the same time."

James shook his head. "That's perfectly beastly," he said in a low voice.

"It gets worse," Erebus admitted stoically.

The gathering moved to the last tapestry. It glowed in the candlelight, somehow both more vibrant and more ghastly than the others. The scene showed a moonlit forest, dominated by a huddle of the dark-robed witches and wizards. They seemed to be bent over something, obscuring it.