The Diamond of Darkhold - 4 (15 page)

“We all saw it,” said Yorick. “Just before we came in here.”

Minny murmured, “Yes, we saw it, we did.” Her eyes were half closed; she looked ready to fall asleep in her chair.

Trogg went on for a while about how the moon was actually much larger than it looked, about the size of a wagon wheel, and how the earth, if you could view it from far above, would look like a vast dinner plate, exactly a million times bigger than the moon. “And the mountains would look like lumps of mashed potatoes!” said Yorick. “And the forests would look like spinach!” said Kanza, and they both broke down into great guffaws.

Finally, Trogg pointed to the hourglass, which was draining its last grains of sand into its bottom half. “Bedtime!” he cried. Minny awoke with a start, and everyone got up and shuffled off to the apartment.

There Minny hurried around sticking candles in cups and cans. Their orange glow cast flickering shadows of the great piles of stuff that cluttered the room.

“That’s where you sleep,” said Trogg to Doon, pointing to a brown and orange striped couch, which had a couple of blankets draped over it. Scawgo went from one bed to the next, folding and smoothing blankets.

“Scawgo hardly ever speaks,” Doon observed.

“He speaks when spoken to,” said Trogg. “A good rule for everyone.”

“I don’t agree,” said Doon.

“What’s that?” Trogg stopped in his tracks and put one big hand behind his big ear, as if having hearing difficulties.

“I said, I don’t agree that it’s good to speak only when spoken to.” Suddenly Doon could feel his temper rising in him like a spurt of flame, even though he knew that contradicting Trogg was probably dangerous. “If everyone did that, no one would ever speak at all! What you mean is that people should only speak when
you
speak to them. Because you’re so powerful, I guess. Why do
you
get to be the powerful one?”

Trogg’s face bunched up in fury, and he took a threatening step toward Doon. Everyone else suddenly stopped talking and looked up. Trogg paused. His expression changed. His mouth stretched into a smile. “Dood,” he said, “that is a good question. What makes me powerful? I will tell you. A powerful person is one who takes action. I have taken drastic action to make sure my family is safe from danger. A powerful person is one who is strong. You know that I am strong. Extraordinary things fall into the path of a powerful person, and into my path came this city—and something else as well.” Without taking his eyes off Doon, Trogg beckoned to Yorick. “Get the jewel, Yor,” he said. “We’ll show this impudent mophead what we mean by power.”

“Are you sure, Pa?” said Yorick. “What if he—”

“Of course I’m sure, bone-brain! Get it out!”

Yorick went to the door of a closet, opened it, and reached inside. He brought out a bundle, wrapped in a yellow rag. It was about the size of a large potato. Yorick handed it to his father. The other members of the family clustered around, including Scawgo. Whatever this was, Doon could see they were proud of it. Minny pressed her hands together beneath her chin, and her lips trembled as if she were whispering to herself. Kanza smirked and slewed her eyes toward Doon, clearly expecting him to be awestruck.

“This,” said Trogg, “was waiting to be found for an eon of time. It was waiting for the right person, and that person turned out to be myself, W. Trogg. This is how fate arranges things: to the powerful person comes the extraordinary discovery.” He began to unwind the cloth from whatever was inside it. “Do you know the meaning of the word ‘jewel,’ boy?”

Doon nodded. His heart gave a jump. Could this be one of the jewels mentioned in the book of eight pages?

“Well,” said Trogg, “this is a jewel unlike any ever seen before.” He let the cloth fall away, and he held the jewel in his two hands. “Minny!” he called. “Bring a couple of candles here so this boy can see.”

The jewel was a deep, clear blue. At first sight, Doon thought it was a smooth oval, about six inches high. But when he looked closer, he could see that its many sides were flat, with angles between them. The candlelight sparkled on every edge. At the jewel’s base was a golden ring, like a neck. Doon bent to look closely and saw that within the glassy depths were thousands of tiny bits, like splintered blue ice, each one separately catching the light and making the whole jewel shimmer and gleam, a stone full of stars. It was a beautiful thing, and he could believe that it was powerful in some way. It seemed to enclose a mystery. In Trogg’s big grubby hands, it looked all wrong. Doon had an urge to take it from him—not to steal it, but to rescue it. He reached out to touch it.

Trogg snatched it away. “No touching!” he cried. “Just look. Hands off.”

“What is it?” Doon asked.

“I told you, Droon,” said Trogg. “It’s a kind of jewel. It’s called a diamond.”

“But what is it good for?”

Trogg gave an exasperated sigh. “It is a
marvel,
” he said. “People will give a lot just to lay eyes on it. Someday, if we want to, we can trade this for just about anything.”

“A stone house on a mountaintop,” said Yorick.

“With land all around and a high wall,” added his mother. “Oh, such a high wall.” She sighed and twisted her fingers together.

“And servants to do the work, and animals, and all the clothes we want,” said Kanza.

Doon wasn’t listening. He was sure of it now. This was it. This diamond was what the book was about. A tingling wave swept through him, and for a moment he forgot to breathe. “Are there more of them?” he asked.

“Of course not!” thundered Trogg. “Want one for yourself, don’t you? Well, you’re too late. This is the one and only.”

“Where did you get it?” Doon asked.

“Just up there,” said Trogg, flicking his thumb up ward toward the blackness overhead. “Right by the—”

“Don’t tell, don’t tell!” cried Yorick.

His father gave him a scornful look. “And why not?”

“Because . . . because it’s a secret,” Yorick said lamely.

“It
was
a secret,” Trogg corrected. “A secret waiting for us. It’s nothing now, just an empty room.”

“Outside, you mean?” Doon asked. He’d expected to hear that Trogg had found it in the storerooms. “Up on top?”

Trogg nodded. “Built into the mountainside,” he said. “By the ancients. Probably this jewel was like a god to them, and they came there to worship it.” He picked up the cloth and rewrapped the diamond. “Do you know what a god is?” he said to Doon.

Doon said he did not.

“A god is the most powerful person there is. A god can rule an entire city, or an entire world. A god has riches, including jewels. So.” He grinned. His chin jutted out, and his chest swelled. “Who does that remind you of?”

Doon didn’t answer. But Trogg didn’t seem to need an answer—he was quite sure of the answer himself. He handed the bundled-up diamond to Yorick. “Put it away,” he said. “And you, Doob, don’t think you will be left in here alone for even one fraction of a second. You won’t have the slightest chance to get your hands on our diamond.”

“I’m not a thief,” said Doon.

Trogg raised his voice. “All right! Everyone to bed. Minny, you’re on fire watch, first shift. Get down there.”

Minny put on a coat and hurried downstairs.

“What’s fire watch?” asked Doon.

“Watching the fire, of course,” Trogg snapped. “So it doesn’t go out. It might be your turn someday, when we know we can trust you.”

Kanza went into one of the bedrooms. Yorick stretched out on a bed at the back of the room, and Scawgo lay down on a bed not far from the couch and drew his knees up near his chin. Doon took off his jacket. Reluctantly, he settled on the couch and pulled up the blanket, which stank of mildew.

“Everyone tucked in?” called Trogg.

“Yes, Pa,” said Kanza’s voice from the bedroom.

“Uh-huh,” said Yorick, back by the kitchen.

Scawgo and Doon said nothing.

“Just a word of warning to you, young Doom,” Trogg said. “No point trying to creep out of here in the night. We’ll hear that chain going clinkety-clank.” He took his candle into the other bedroom. There was some rustling and creaking and muttering, and then the light went out, and the room sank into a darkness as black as the dread and despair Doon felt inside.

“Sweet dreams,” called Trogg.

Doon lay there wide awake. His mind went over and over the same thoughts, until he was afraid they were going to burn a hole in his head: How could he have been so stupid as to let himself be caught? Why hadn’t it occurred to him that there might be danger down here? If he’d been paying better attention, would this have happened? Where was Lina on this night? Was she all right? If she wasn’t, it was his fault.

In between these tormenting thoughts, he kept picturing the blue diamond, which was meant, he was
sure,
for the people of Ember. It was beautiful and mysterious. It had a purpose; he was sure it did, and he was sure that Trogg didn’t know what that purpose was. But
I
could know, Doon thought. If I could only get my hands on it and really look at it, I could know.

He turned over, kicking at the blankets that twisted around his feet. The chain clinked.

Trogg’s voice came in the dark. “Settle down.”

“I might be able to sleep if you’d take this chain off me,” Doon said.

“No chance,” Trogg said. “Don’t want you walking in your sleep, ha-ha.”

A long time went by. Trogg snored—a snort, a growl, and a wheeze. Yorick breathed steadily, whistling now and then through his nose. Kanza muttered in her sleep from the next room. Scawgo, on his bed a few feet away, seemed to be still awake, making whimpery noises. Doon thought maybe he was talking to himself, since he didn’t get to talk much to anyone else; or maybe he was crying.

He tried again to talk to him. “Scawgo,” he whispered.

The whimpering stopped.

“Scawgo,” said Doon again. “Scawgo, answer me.”

From the direction of Scawgo came a tiny frantic sound: “Shh! Shh! Shh!”

Doon made his whisper even quieter. “Do you know what that diamond is?” No answer. “Listen to me,” Doon said. “You don’t have to say anything. Look under this couch, sometime when you’re alone. I’ve put something there.”

The couch sagged in the middle. Doon twisted this way and that, tangling himself in the thin blanket, trying to find a comfortable position. He had to get out of here. And that meant he had to find the key to the chain that bound his feet.

CHAPTER 14
_______________

Something Strange

Kenny Parton wasn’t feeling very good. He was a little bit cold and a little bit hungry nearly all the time, and this was disagreeable, but even worse was the general dullness of everything. School, where he went a few days a week, seemed like a waste of good time. Most days, there were hardly any students. They stayed home to help care for sick brothers and sisters and grandparents, or to help repair leaking roofs, or because they weren’t feeling well themselves. The students who did come often dozed off during the lessons. Still, the teacher, Eenette Buloware, showed up almost every day. For three hours in the morning, she told them stories from history or explained how things in the world worked. She had flimsy gray hair and a long neck and nervous hands that moved around in the air as if trying to draw pictures of what she was talking about.

“Today,” she would say, “we are going to discuss Ancient Forms of Transportation,” and her right hand, with its forefinger pointing, would travel out to her right side, weave back to the left, and move right again, in case anyone didn’t know that transportation had to do with moving around. She would make a hand fly over her head when she talked about airplanes, and she would chug her elbows back and forth when she talked about trains.

Their lesson that day was on Appliances of the Ancient World. They would learn about this, Ms. Buloware said, because someday they would learn how to make these helpful things again. “Some of you in this very classroom,” she said, “might learn to make a washing machine, or a stove, or a flush toilet.”

“What is a flush toilet?” asked one of the smallest students.

Some of the others snickered, but Ms. Buloware was not embarrassed by this subject. “A flush toilet,” she said, “causes human waste to be swept cleanly away. You can see them in the rooms at the Pioneer Hotel. They are white, shaped like a very large bowl, with a sort of box at the back.” She made the shape of a bowl with her hands, and then the shape of a box.

“But how does it work?” said someone.

“Water springs up in it,” said Ms. Buloware. “The water carries away the waste.” Her hand swept sideways.

“And then where does it go?”

Ms. Buloware looked momentarily confused. Kenny could tell that she didn’t know the answer to this question. She could have admitted this and no one would have blamed her. But she didn’t like to appear ignorant. So she said, “It goes far, far away.”

“But how?” Kenny asked.

Ms. Buloware frowned. “It has to do with pipes,” she said. “And pressures. And electricity. In any case, it is too complex for me to explain to you.”