The Shadow of Malabron (11 page)

“I’m sorry, Grandfather,” she said, lowering her eyes. “It’s my fault. I brought him here.”

“You wanted to help, Rowen,” Pendrake said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “That wasn’t wrong.”

“Will you be searching for him yourselves, then,” Nymm asked sweetly, “or would you prefer that we do it for you?”

“Neither, I think,” Pendrake said, and he gestured across the room to one of the branching corridors. Rowen turned to where he was pointing and to her great relief saw Will walking towards them out of the shadows. An instant later she saw the large silver-grey wolf that came trotting after him into the light, and the glad shout that she had been about to utter turned into a gasp. All over the room, heads rose from books, and an even more complete silence fell.

The wolf seemed unconcerned about all the eyes turned to him, as if his presence here was an everyday occurrence.

Will himself was a sight: his clothes were covered in dust and grime and there were bits of paper and strands of cobweb in his hair.

“What happened?” Rowen said, stepping forward, and then she halted and watched the wolf, who had stopped and was now standing calmly at Will’s side. “Where did you…”

She faltered. The wolf’s startling eyes fixed on her, then roamed about the room.

“This cave is strange to me,” the animal said in his mesmerizing voice. “The smell is not right.”

By now some of the other Library patrons had jumped out of their chairs and backed away to the far edges of the room. Nymm had taken refuge behind Pendrake. As the toymaker approached Will, the wolf perked up its ears and gave a yip. It bounded forward, then skidded to a stop and blinked at the old man in apparent confusion.

“I thought you were…” the wolf began to say, but did not finish.

The toymaker studied the strange creature intently. He took off his spectacles, rubbed them on his sleeve and put them back on.

“What in all the Realms…” he said softly.

He turned his gaze on Will.

“It was my idea to come here,” Will said. “I couldn’t just stay in the toyshop and do nothing.”

Pendrake raised a hand.

“We will discuss it later,” he said sternly, and then to Will’s relief, he looked at the wolf again and laughed softly. “This is a surprise. Or perhaps not.”

Nymm now inched his way out cautiously from behind the toymaker.

“Where did this …
animal
come from?” he said, wrinkling his nose.

“I found him,” Will said. “Well, he found me. Then he found the way out.”

“But where in the Library did this happen? I’ve never heard of such a…”

“I … don’t know,” Will said, handing Nymm the slip, which feebly flapped a wing. “He’s been here a long time. Longer than the books, maybe.”

“And you intend to just
take
it?”

“I’m not
taking
him,” Will said. “He’s coming with me.”

The wolf padded slowly up to the assistant librarian, sniffed, and wrinkled its nose. Nymm clutched the toymaker’s sleeve and stared wide-eyed at the creature.

“But you can’t… This is…” the librarian sputtered, his eyes blinking rapidly. “Every item removed from the Library has to be properly checked out. We have to find out if it … he has even been catalogued.”

“You may inform the head librarian,” Pendrake said to Nymm, “that I will discuss the matter with him later.”

Nymm’s bloodless face actually reddened. He turned on his heel and fled the room.

“And now we must hurry,” Pendrake said, turning to Will and Rowen again. “Will has been summoned by the Marshal.”

Will and Rowen exchanged glances.

“We cannot stay here,” the toymaker said to the wolf. “Where will you go?”

“I must go with the one who found me,” the wolf said, and then his voice softened, as if he was mimicking the words of another: “
The one who is lost will be a seeker of the gateless gate. Stay with him until it is found.”

“The gateless gate?”

“That is what I was bidden. To stay with the seeker of the gateless gate.”

To Will’s surprise, the toymaker nodded.

“Very well then,” Pendrake said. “You’re welcome to come with us. But tell me, do you have a name?”

The wolf lowered his shaggy head as if to ponder this difficult question, and then he lifted his yellow-gold eyes to the old man.

“Shade. That was it. The name I was given is Shade.”

A
S THEY MADE THEIR WAY
through the streets to the house, Will told Rowen and the toymaker how he and the wolf had encountered one another.

“I went looking for a book and found
him
instead,” he said when he had finished his story. He watched Shade, who had trotted on ahead as soon as they left the Library and was sniffing the air eagerly.

“But what is he, Grandfather?” Rowen said. “Where did the wolf come from?”

“I have my hunches, child, but no answers.”

Many of those who passed by stopped in their tracks and stared uneasily at the alarmingly large creature padding along the paving stones, but none of them shouted or ran.

When a messenger wisp zinged overhead, the wolf grunted.

“I remember that one,” he said, a trace of annoyance in his voice. “That one was always going too fast. Always hurrying, even in the days before the Storyeater came.”

“You know that wisp?” Rowen asked.

“Wisp?” the wolf said, as if he’d never heard the word before. “Yes, I know that one. He was with the First Ones.” He halted suddenly and raised his head.

“The First Ones,” he said. “Have you seen them? Are they…”

“They are not here, Shade,” Pendrake said quietly. “The First Ones no longer walk among us. They have not done so for a very long time.”

The wolf paced beside them in silence. After some time he spoke, and his voice was low and husky.

“My friend said it would be that way. He said we would not see each other again.”

Edweth did not betray the slightest surprise when they arrived at the house with Shade. She merely gave the wolf her usual stern, appraising look, and then returned to her kitchen, where dinner was underway. Will cleaned himself up and then sat down with the others to a quick meal of stew and bread. He was famished and tucked into his food eagerly. Then he looked up and saw the wolf, who sat calmly watching him from the kitchen doorway.

“I wonder if he’s hungry,” Rowen said. “I wonder if he even eats at all.”

Edweth regarded the wolf with her hands on her hips.

“Now that’s the strangest thing I’ve seen in a good while,” she said. “Something four-legged that doesn’t hang about the table begging. Maybe that’s why he looks a little underfed. You can offer him something, Master Will.”

Will took a chunk of bone from Edweth’s chopping board and carried it over to Shade. The wolf cautiously sniffed the offering, then gazed up at Edweth.

“If the fare is not to your liking…” the housekeeper began.

“You are kind,” Shade said. “Thank you.”

He took the bone in his jaws and gnawed at it energetically.

“That answers your question, Rowen,” Pendrake said. “Though I would guess it has been a long time since he has
needed
to eat anything.”

“But how did he get into the Library?” Rowen asked.

Will darted an apprehensive look at Shade. He felt uncomfortable talking about the wolf as if he were an ordinary animal that could not understand what they were saying. But Shade was busy with his treat and paid them no attention.

“He was a Companion of the Stewards,” Pendrake said. “Or as he calls them, the First Ones. He is one of the Speaking Creatures, birds and beasts with the power of speech and understanding. There aren’t many left, at least in this part of the Realm. His story, whatever it is, must be one of the oldest in the Kantar. He was here before the rise of Malabron and the destruction of Eleel. The Broken Years after the Great Unweaving are unknown to him. As for his being in the Library, I am as puzzled as you are.”

“What is this gateless gate he was talking about?” Will asked. “Is it some way out of here?”

“I have no answers about that either, Will. A few scattered verses in the Kantar speak of such a thing, but in riddles. It is said that there were once gateways, called farholds, made by the Stewards. They were wishing portals. You could use them to transport yourself to any place inside or out of the Realm, just by wishing to go there. It is also said they were all broken or sealed in the time of the Great Unweaving.”

“Maybe the Hidden Folk know about these gates,” Rowen said eagerly. “People say the Lady of the Green Court knows all the secret paths in the Perilous Realm. She could help Will get home.”

“That she could. But no one can find the Green Court unless the Lady wishes it so. Except perhaps you, Will.”

Will wanted to ask the toymaker what he meant, but something told him he would not like the answer.

Dusk was falling as Will set out for the home of the Errantry with Pendrake and Shade. Rowen had pleaded to come along but Pendrake would not let her.

“You’ve done enough for one day,” he said drily. Rowen looked about to protest, but she crossed her arms and said nothing.

There were few people in the street at this hour. Sooner than Will wished it they came to the ivy-covered wall of Appleyard. One of the larger doors was open, and as they approached a file of four riders on horseback came out through the gateway. There were three men and one woman, all wearing long grey coats.

Inside the enclosure there were more people in long coats hurrying to and fro across a wide lawn criss-crossed by narrow stone paths. A horn sounded somewhere near by, and then another. A second group of riders came trotting in through another gateway.

The lawn was dotted with apple trees and sloped gently up towards a building unlike any Will had ever seen. It was more than a house, and not quite a castle. Its peaked roofs, slender turrets and many arched doorways looked as if they had not been built but had grown from the earth. And in fact four great trees grew right up against the corners, so that it was hard to tell where their massive white trunks ended and the stone began.

“The Gathering House,” Pendrake said. “Home of the Errantry.”

They followed one of the paths, which took them past a fountain where several men and women were gathered, talking in quiet, serious tones. Some of them nodded to Pendrake as he went by. Further in the distance Will caught sight of a fenced circular enclosure where a young woman was riding a dappled brown and white horse. Mount and rider were trotting in tight circles round the enclosure, watched by a man with a long stick who pointed out the way they should go. From somewhere unseen came a ringing sound that Will guessed must be a hammer striking metal. He wondered if swords or armour were being made, and if all this activity meant the Errantry was preparing for a possible invasion by the fetches. He doubted that swords would be of much use against them.

Reaching the hall, they climbed a wide staircase to a high arched entryway. Here at last there were guards, one on each side of the doorway. At least Will thought they were guards. They wore no helmets or armour, but were dressed in the same long grey coats as the other people Will had seen. It came to him that these were knights of the Errantry, as were all of the men and women they had seen so far in Appleyard. They looked nothing like the knights in books and movies. Where was the shiny armour, the chain mail?

At the door Pendrake paused and turned to Shade.

“You’ll have to stay here, I’m afraid,” he said. “You were not summoned. I will make certain Will is safe until we return.”

The wolf scowled, but did not protest. He gave Will a long look, then sat down in front of the doorway, immediately becoming as still and unperturbed as a statue. The guards looked inquiringly at the toymaker, who gave them a nod of reassurance and then beckoned Will to follow him.

They went down a long corridor lit by many candles, and up a flight of stairs to a wide, high-ceilinged hall with pillars down its length. Low wooden benches lined the walls, and tapestries hung from the roof beams. On each tapestry was an image of a man or woman. Many were dressed in long coats, but some wore clothing and armour that made them look more like what Will thought of as a knight, from the pictures he had seen in books back home.

“Renowned knight-errants of the past,” Pendrake said. He gestured to the image of a woman with long red hair. “That is Gildred of Blue Hill.”

“She has the same last name as…” Will began.

“She was my daughter,” Pendrake said. “Rowen’s mother. Rowen hopes to be just like her some day.”

Pendrake had used the word
was
, but Will could not bring himself to ask what had happened.

Will expected to see the Marshal in this great hall, seated on some sort of high throne and frowning down at him. To his surprise the toymaker led him all the way through the hall and across a narrow corridor to a much smaller room. Here the walls were bare except for a large framed map. There was a small fireplace in one corner and a tall cabinet in another, stacked with scrolls and bundles of paper. In the centre of the room was a wooden desk where a broad-shouldered man with cropped silver hair sat, studying a sheet of parchment. His high-collared brown cloak made Will think of a monk or priest. On the desk sat a glass of what looked like red wine, a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese, nothing of which appeared to have been touched.