Into the Dim (20 page)

I blinked at her. The castle. Someone there was bound to have news of her. I beamed at Rachel. “Yes! That's awe—I mean yes. That would be most welcome. I'm so sorry I made you late. But I would love to go with you. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Rachel grinned and moved as though to embrace me. She checked herself, the smile dropping from her lovely face as she stepped back.

“For-forgive me,” she muttered to the ground.

It took me a second to get it.

“No.” I reached out and squeezed her in a quick hug. “I don't care what religion we follow. We're friends now, aren't we?”

As I let go, Rachel ducked her head, but not before I saw a tear glimmer behind her lashes. I began to feel lighter than I had in months. I had a lead on my mother, thanks to Rachel. A cold breeze gusted, bringing with it the smell of smoke and sewage, fish and tar and ice. The smells of the medieval world.

Rachel started as a distant bell rang in the gloaming. “Curfew soon,” she said. “I must away.”

After promising to come by and fetch me in the morning, she hurried off into the vicious London streets. As I watched her go, I thought about what I'd endured in only one day here. I realized Rachel was the bravest person I'd ever met.

Through the gate, I passed an herb garden gone to seed. In the cobbled courtyard, I stared up at the thatched roof and shuttered windows of the half-timbered house. Torches flamed on either side of a green front door. As I raised a hand to knock, the door jerked inward.

Light streamed from behind the familiar form, casting his features into shadow. A profound relief turned my knees to jelly.

“Collum” was all I could manage to say.

He stepped out onto the stoop, arms folded across his chest. His normal irritated demeanor seemed like play time at Chuck E. Cheese compared with this. He squinted, glaring at me. “Where,” he asked through stiff lips and clenched jaw, “the bloody
fuck
have you been?”

My head reared back as if he'd slapped me. Before I could respond, before the angry words could leave my lips, he reached out and snatched me to him. Strong arms wrapped me up, pressing me against his chest as he rocked me back and forth, murmuring into my hair. Shocked into an exhausted, melty state, I sighed and let my bruised head rest against him.

As if the embrace caught him by surprise, his arms dropped abruptly to his sides and he stepped back. “Get inside,” he said, his eyes scanning the street beyond the gate.

Inside a low-beamed front entrance hall, Collum's eyes lingered on the bandage wrapped around my head. Some of the anger that raged in his eyes softened. “What happened?”

I tried to explain, but the words jumbled on my tongue.

When I swayed, he scooped me up, carrying me like a child past a set of stairs that led up to a second level, and into a larger room where he deposited me in a high-backed chair near a central fire pit. “Jesus, you're a right mess.” He thrust a pewter goblet into my hands. “Drink.”

Firelight flickered off moldering tapestries. Cobwebby beams disappeared into the shadows above as the swirl of alcohol, cinnamon, and cloves rose up to envelop my face. I clenched the cup, letting the heat soak into my frozen fingers.

“Do you need a doctor?”

“No.” My voice came out raspy. “I'm okay. I just—”

We both looked up at the sound of feet pounding down the steps. Before I could blink, Phoebe flung herself at me so hard, I nearly dropped the cup.

“Great fuzzy sheep balls, Hope! We feared you were dead.” On her knees at my feet, she looked up into my face. “We looked and looked for you. Collum just got back from searching. I stayed here the last hour, hoping you'd show.”

“That's enough,” Collum interjected. “She's here now. Give the girl some air.”

Phoebe gave my legs another painful squeeze before she stood. Though Collum still looked disgruntled, I grinned up at both of them, feeling stupidly grateful to have real friends for the first time in my life.

When I took a huge gulp, the spicy, pungent liquid scalded my throat.

Phoebe chuckled at my expression. “Mulled wine.” She plucked the goblet from my fingers and refilled it from the pitcher warming on a flat stone near the fire. “With cinnamon and cloves. There's beer, but”—she made a face—“it's sore bitter. And when I asked Hilde for some boiled water, she looked at me like I was mental. Told me I could keep the bath water when I was done washing if I liked.”

“Who's Hilde?”

“Housekeeper. Comes with the place. Wait till you meet her. Gah, she's a piece of work, that one. And just get your knickers out of that twist, Collum MacPherson. Hope'll tell us what happened when she's ready. Gads, what happened to your head? Oh! You must be starving. Come on.”

She tugged me to my feet, chattering as we walked across the flagstone floor toward a wide doorway. I noticed Collum staring at me, his normal dour expression returned.

“Don't mind him,” Phoebe said. “He was worried witless, and don't let him tell you different. I knew you'd find your way, though, with that epic brain of yours. But Collum insisted on searching. Kept yammering, ‘No man left behind.'”

I giggled at her spot-on impression.

“Tell you true, we were both scared. Almost as bad as when this horrible Spanish Inquisitor bloke tried to arrest Gran for heresy.” She patted my hand. “Now, let's get you something to eat. You look fair dreadful.”

“Gee, thanks.” My hand went to the bandage. My hair poofed over it like a mushroom cap.

Thank God the mirror isn't common yet.

Collum followed at our heels, grumbling under his breath as we passed into a room with a long, ornately carved dining table. Another central pit blazed, sending out tendrils of heat.

Weariness pulled on me like gravity. My feet tangled in my skirts. Stumbling, I caught myself on one of the massive, faded wall tapestries. I looked up to see an ancient ship being dragged down by an enormous kraken while the tiny figures on board screamed in terror.

I knew exactly how they felt.

“Sit. Sit.” Phoebe guided me into one of the two carved armchairs near the fire and bustled to a chunky buffet near the far side of the room. The pain was back, and my eyeballs now pulsed with each boom of my heartbeat.

“Here you go.” Phoebe handed me a fresh cup of wine, sloshing a few drops of thick red liquid onto my lap. “Tell us, are you all right?”

“I'm fine.” I managed a wobbly smile. “Just a headache.”

I slumped against the high back of the chair and studied the smoke curling up from the crackling flames. It slithered over blackened beams that crisscrossed the low ceiling, before finding its way out a hole in the roof.

Phoebe pushed open a door near the back of the room and called, “Hilde? Can you bring some food in for my sister?”

The next few swallows went down way better than the first. Warmth spread out from my gut, and I started talking, leaving nothing out. When it was over, I slumped deeper in my chair.

“You took too much risk,” Collum spat. “What is the number one rule, eh? Do not interfere with the locals.”

“What was she supposed to do, Coll?” Phoebe said. “Let that git rape the girl?”

He mumbled something into his cup.

“That's right,” she chastised. “You'd have done the same thing, and you know it. So hush. Hope got us a lead on Sarah. Thanks to her, we have something to go on. Good job, Hope.” She saluted me with her cup and took a long, thoughtful draught.

Collum grabbed my shoulders and stared at me intently. “Still,” he said, “from now on, you will listen to me, stay
near
me, and follow my rules, understood? You could've been attacked or robbed or.” His jaw worked. “Or worse.”

My teeth started to chatter at the thought of what nearly
did
happen. I set the cup down quickly before he could notice, and glanced around desperately for some way to hide my shaking hands. A basket of raw, cottony wool sat on the floor beside me. A thin, rounded stalk of wood with a circular base lay on top of the fluff. I picked it up, tied a piece of the wool to the top of the stick, and began rolling it between my palms. A slim strand of attached wool stretched out of the raw material. I twisted. The thick warp of wool began to thin. My hands moved faster and faster as the events of the day blurred in my head.

Never let your hands lay idle, child.
A soft, comforting voice filled my mind, bringing with it an odd sense of nostalgia.
Not too quickly, or you shall tangle it.

“Hope!” Phoebe's voice jerked me back to the smoky room.

I blinked to see her and Collum both gaping at me. No, not at me. At the bundle of wool thread now wrapped around the stalk of wood in my hands. Somehow, I'd turned the messy wad into a lumpy strand of undyed yarn.

“That's brilliant,” Phoebe gasped. “You know how to spin wool in the old way? Even Gran can't do that. Sarah taught you, then?”

I stared down at the objects in my lap. My heart was beating too fast as I hurled the spindle, with its untidy new thread, back into the basket. “N-no,” I spluttered. “I've never . . . I mean, she didn't . . .”

A door banged open on the far side of the hall. A dumpy woman with apple cheeks and a wide apron waddled toward us, grizzled gray hair peeking from beneath a white cap. She would've looked like the kindly old grandma in a storybook but for the sneer curling her nearly toothless mouth. A skinny girl of eleven or twelve with a long brown braid over each shoulder trotted in her wake, toting a packed tray.

The woman's piggy eyes matched the muddy color of her serving dress. They flicked over us and landed on me. “That her, then?” she said to Collum. “The sister you was looking for?” Hilde paused to drop a perfunctory curtsy before adding, “Milord.”

I tensed as Collum's gaze pinned me to the chair. “Aye. Our sister.” He made a vague gesture in the woman's direction. “Hope, this is Hilde, the housekeeper. The girl is her granddaughter, Alice.”

Hilde took in my stained skirts and bandaged head. “Supper was served long ago. Old Mab has gone to her bed.”

I lifted eyebrows at Phoebe, who mouthed,
The cook.

“Oh, that's okay,” I replied, “I can fix my own—”

Hilde cut me off. “No one messes about in Mab's kitchen. Alice, serve the bread and cod.” She barely glanced at the girl, who struggled with the heavy tray. “Cold, mind you. I know the archbishop has granted an indulgence to eat meat during the week of the king's coronation. But this house will not break the holy Advent fast for the sake of frivolity.”

I rose and hurried over to the girl, attempting to take the wobbling tray before it crashed to the floor. Hilde intercepted me and snatched it from the girl's hands. “Get back and scour them pots, girl. Praise be the saints, you ain't got the sense God gave a goose.”

As the girl scuttled past, Hilde cuffed her on the side of the head. The girl whimpered. Phoebe shot to her feet at the same time as I rounded on the old woman.

Collum moved to block the two of us, though his eyes narrowed on the hateful woman. “That will do, Hilde. Good night.”

The housekeeper's jaw moved, as though chewing a nugget of undigested food. Oh, how I wanted to smack her.

“This household attends early mass,” she said sourly as she slammed the tray onto the table. “We do not break our fast until after.” She turned, speaking only to Collum. “I suggest you take your sister to hand, milord. You'd do well to get a tighter rein on her from now on. There are unclean elements roaming this city, and I hear the new king invites even more of them. Until the Godless Jews are scourged from this land, decent
Christian
folk are not safe.”

With a harrumph, the odious little woman stomped from the room.

Phoebe looked at me, teeth bared. “Told ya she was a piece of work.”

I
N THE DARK, SLIMY SKITTERING THINGS CREPT OVER ME
, but I was too weak to brush them away. My shredded fingertips were bleeding and numb from trying to claw my way out of utter blackness.

A tiny, waking part of me knew I was having the nightmare. I even knew where I was. The small bedchamber at Mabray House. Snuggled under heavy quilts in the narrow bed, Phoebe snoring next to me. I tried to fight my way out of the dream. But it sucked me under like a whirlpool of tar.

A scrabbling sound from outside. A glint of moonlight. Hands reached in. Frosty fingers grasped my wrists.

I jolted awake. Shivering and sweating all at once, I gasped pallid clouds into the air. I eased from under the covers and snatched up the flask on the bedside table. I took a huge slug, then choked.

Wine.
Ugh. How are these people not all drooling alcoholics?

Still, I downed it, and by the time I woke again, Phoebe was up and gone.

The young girl, Alice, had brought up my gown, all cleaned and brushed until it looked good as new. Poor thing must've worked all night. Despite the ice that rimmed the wash basin, I managed to clean up and dress myself.

Thanks to Rachel, today we might get closer to finding my mother.

What if she's there? What if we just walk in . . . and there she is?

I knew it wouldn't be that easy. Still, I couldn't help the tiny beacon of hope that lit inside me at the thought. And as I hurried down the stairs, I felt better than I had since we'd arrived.

Halfway down the steps, raised voices filtered out from the dining hall. I paused just outside the half-closed door.

“. . . flighty and doesn't understand the risks.” Collum's rumble. “We lost a half a day chasing after her. We didn't even have time to search for this Babcock. Running off like that! She'll end up getting us all—”

“Just stop,” Phoebe said. “Hope's doing her best. And as a matter of fact, it's
you
who's acting dodgy. You're up to something, Collum Michael MacPherson. And don't try to deny it, because I know you too well.”