The Shadow of Malabron (6 page)

“Don’t they have traffic where you come from?” Rowen asked.

Will scowled. He saw then that they were standing at the meeting point of two streets. In the centre of the crossing rose a high pedestal of black marble, and upon it stood a lifesized bronze statue of a young man in ragged, patchwork clothes, striding along with a bundle slung on a pole over his shoulder. He had been posed with his eyes raised to the sky, while his feet were about to step unknowingly off the edge of the pedestal, which had been sculpted to resemble the jagged edge of a cliff. A little dog followed at the young man’s heels, its front legs raised and its mouth open as if it were barking a warning.

“Sir Dagonet,” Rowen said, noticing where Will’s gaze was fixed. “The first Lord Mayor of the city.”

Rowen led the way up one of the two main streets, which curved steeply upwards round a long bend. On one side she pointed out a dark, many-spired building with no windows. Rowen told him this was the Great Library.

“If there’s something you want to know, Grandfather says, the Library is the best place to go looking for it.”

A little further along the rising street ended at a high wall covered in thick ivy. In the centre of the wall stood two massive doors of dark polished wood braced with iron. They were closed, but within one of the two larger doors a smaller door stood open.

“Appleyard,” Rowen said. “Home of the Errantry.”

“You said that word before,” Will said. “Errantry. To Moth, in the snug. Who is he?”

“It’s not a
he
,” Rowen said. “Errantry is what you learn here, and when you complete your training, you join the Errantry, the Guild of Knights-Errant.”

“So it’s like a school then. Do you go there?”

“I’ve started sword practice, and scouting training. My mother was a knight-errant, and I’m going to be one, too. Though my grandfather isn’t happy about it.”

“So they teach you to become a warrior or something?”

Rowen considered this for a moment.

“You’ve heard of the Knights of the Round Table, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“The Errantry is something like that. In fact, when Arthur Pendragon stayed in Fable for a while he drew up the code of rules that the Errantry still follows.”

“Wait. You mean
King
Arthur?”

“Of course. Who else? After his last battle he came back to the Realm to be healed. I thought that story was well-known where you come from.”

“I suppose so, but I didn’t think … I mean, he’s not real.”

Rowen stared at him, then turned away and raised her hand.

“Here we are,” she said.

Will thought Rowen meant the door in the wall, but then he saw she was pointing to a narrow, curving lane that opened off the main street. They followed it to its end, passing several shops on the way. Will saw signs for a shoemaker, a bookseller, an apothecary (whatever that was) and a tailor. At the end of the lane stood a strange building, a tall terraced house, somewhat like those Will had already seen, but narrower and faced with dark green and grey masonry. Arched, shuttered windows climbed in a curious zizzag pattern to an ornate turreted roof. The house leaned slightly into the street and was so crooked-looking that it seemed only to be standing thanks to the two stockier buildings that flanked it.

Rowen went up to the front door. She spoke a hushed word and a moment later it opened.

“After you,” she said.

Inside, Will found himself in a long hall that seemed brilliantly lit after the long walk though the dim streets. Once his eyes had adjusted to the blaze of the overhead lamps, he saw two things that struck him. First was that the house seemed larger on the inside, wider and more spacious, than it had from outside. And second were the toys.

There were toys everywhere. Colourful marionettes and life-like birds hung from the ceiling. The shelves lining the hall were crowded with miniature animals of every description, including strange creatures Will had never seen before, as well as tops and whirligigs, boats, intricate little dolls’ houses and castles, chess sets, hoops and balls, marbles, and various odd, unknown contraptions made of wood, metal, wire and string.

“This is how Grandfather earns his living,” Rowen said, “but he’s also a master of lore. He knows more stories than anyone in Fable.”

At the far end of the hall rose a winding staircase. When Rowen reached it and bounded up the first few steps, she nearly collided with a tiny, apple-cheeked woman in an apron who was coming down. The woman shrieked and the stack of folded linen she had been carrying flew up and scattered over the stairs.

“Rowen!” the woman gasped, sitting down on the step and pressing a hand to her bosom. “You’ll send me to my deathbed someday, child.”

“I didn’t think you’d be up, Edweth,” Rowen mumbled.

“Waiting for you to get home, as always,” Edweth said sternly.

“I’m sorry, but I need to see Grandfather right away.”

“Who has been greatly worried about you, young lady, going off by yourself like that.”

The woman glanced sideways at Will as she proceeded to gather up the scattered linen. Rowen hurried to help her.

“Filthy!” Edweth gasped, batting Rowen’s hand away.

“This is Will Lightfoot,” Rowen said. “He needs Grandfather’s help.”

“Well,” the woman said with a curt nod at Will, “the master is not here at the moment and who knows when he’ll be back. He’s gone to an emergency meeting of the Council. Something has all the wise and mighty in a flap.”

“I must find him,” Rowen said. “I have important news. Can Will stay here while I’m gone? He’s come from … from far away.”

Edweth now took a long, hard look at Will. He felt himself turn scarlet.

“I suppose he may stay,” she finally said. “I’m sure your grandfather will be happy to see you safe and sound, Rowen, but don’t be surprised if you can’t hold his attention. I haven’t seen him so distracted for a good long while.”

“Did he say what…” Rowen began, and then went silent.

The woman shook her head.

“It’s business I don’t poke my nose into. But I know you won’t get into the council chambers dressed like that. Your clothes, child. You look as if you’ve been traipsing through the middle of Toadmarsh.”

Rowen grinned.

“Maybe I have. But I haven’t time to change. This is urgent.”

Edweth sighed.

“It always is. But you will take a dry cloak. That much I insist on. Your grandfather is untidy enough without you following in his footsteps.”

Rowen gave an impatient sigh and dashed up the stairs. Edweth began to gather up the linen, then she studied Will again, and her gaze softened.

“So you come from far away, do you?” she said with a knowing look. “That’s a big place, I’ve been told. As easy to get lost there as it is in these parts.”

“I’m not lost,” Will said. “I just don’t know where I…”

He trailed off sheepishly. The housekeeper nodded.

“You’re in Pendrake’s Toyshop in Pluvius Lane. That’s a good place to be, whether you’re lost or not.”

“I won’t be staying long,” Will said. “But thank you.”

“You can save your thanks for the master,” Edweth said. “But in the meantime, while you are here you will not be treated poorly.”

Rowen came bounding back down the stairs, tying the cord of a new cloak round her neck. At the bottom she paused and sniffed.

“Do I smell oranges?”

“The road to the Sunlands is open again,” Edweth said. “There was even chocolate at the market yesterday.”

“I hope you bought some,” Rowen said. At the door she turned to Will. “Please stay here. You’re safe in this house. Edweth used to slay ogres for a living.”

“Off with you now,” the housekeeper snapped.

Rowen laughed and hurried out the door.

“Come with me, Master Lightfoot,” Edweth said. “We shall get you settled in.”

She went up the stairs and Will followed, noting that here, too, the walls were inset with niches crammed with more toys, and also with books. And so it continued as they climbed, more toys and books, up several floors, until they reached a landing with four doors. Edweth took a key from a pocket in her apron, opened one of the doors, and gestured for Will to precede her inside.

He found himself in a small room, with stone walls hung with colourful tapestries depicting odd, intertwining figures of plants, birds and beasts. There was a four-poster bed against the far wall, a writing desk and chair next to it, a mirror in one corner and a tall wardrobe in another. Will was reminded a little of the snug in the woods, but this room seemed more polished, less secretive and ancient.

“Here we are,” said Edweth, “I hope this will serve. Perhaps you should get some sleep.”

“No, I’m fine,” Will said. “I’ll stay awake. Until Rowen gets back.”

“Well, then, I’ll make you something to eat. And I will heat some water, too, so you can bathe, if you please.”

She spoke these last words with a meaningful arch of her eyebrows, and Will wondered just how bad he looked, and smelled, after his long journey. Edweth pointed to a door that Will had not noticed.

“You’ll find the bath in there,” she said. “Give me a few minutes, and then pull the cord above the tub, and it will fill with hot water. Pull it again when the bath is full.”

She must have noticed the look of surprise on his face, for she added, “This isn’t a snug in the Wood, young sir. We do things for ourselves here.”

“No, that’s not it,” Will said. “I just didn’t think you’d have running water.”

As soon as the words were out, he blushed again. Edweth’s smile was more like a wince.

“If you know what a bath is,” she said, heading for the door, “then you’ll know how to use it. I will bring you some fresh clothes. When you’re ready to eat, just follow your nose.”

After the housekeeper had gone, Will explored the room. On the desk was a thick book with a clock face set into its front cover, an ink bottle and a quill pen. He opened the drawers of the table and found a stack of blank writing paper. In the wardrobe were several woven blankets, thick folded cloths that Will supposed were towels, and feather pillows, all neatly arranged on shelves.

Will took a towel, went into the inner room and undressed. After waiting what he hoped was a long enough time, he pulled the tasselled cord above the bath. A stream of hot water gushed out of a stone pipe overhead and splashed into the tub. When it was half full he shut off the water and took a very brief bath, feeling uncomfortable at being naked in a strange house.

In the water he examined his various bruises and scratches. The only proof of what he had been through since leaving Dad and Jess.

“Where am I?” he wondered out loud.

When he was done he went back into the other room and found clean clothes laid out on the bed. He dressed slowly, uncertain about these unfamiliar garments and exactly how they were supposed to be worn. Then he stood before the mirror and inspected himself. He was wearing a white cotton shirt and a green waistcoat, knee-length grey woollen breeches, white stockings, and black buckled half-boots. The clothes were strange, and didn’t quite fit him, but the face that stared back at him was definitely the face of the Will Lightfoot he knew very well. He turned away, afraid he would see those terrible eyes again. When he dared another glance, it was still his own reflection looking back at him.

Will Lightfoot, thief and runaway. Lost in some world that couldn’t be real. Rowen had said his own world was called Elsewhere. To him it felt as if that’s where he was now. They had walked a long way from the clearing where he was sure – pretty sure – the motorcycle was still lying somewhere. He remembered the lost look on Jess’s face as he rode away on the bike. What was she doing now? She couldn’t go to sleep at night unless Will read to her. Before he left they were only halfway through that book about horses she loved so much. With a sick feeling he thought about Dad, maybe still out there somewhere looking for him. He had lost his wife, and now his son.

Even if he was in trouble back home, Will knew one thing for sure: this place was far worse. He would just have to hope this loremaster could help him get back to where he belonged.

As Edweth had suggested, Will followed his nose and the enticing aromas led him downstairs to the kitchen. From hooks in the walls hung shining pots and kitchen tools, and a tall wooden table with chairs stood in one corner. Edweth brusquely invited Will to sit there. She had cooked sausages and eggs and toast, and set a heaped plate before him, which he proceeded to wolf down hungrily.

While he ate, Edweth sat beside him and asked him questions. To his relief, she asked only about his family.

“Jess,” she repeated when he had told her about his sister. “A pretty name.”

“She’s a good kid,” Will said with a pang, remembering her silent wave as he left the campsite. “I shouldn’t have left her like that.”

He continued eating, but without the same eagerness. When he had finished, Edweth told him he could explore the house.

“Anything that you shouldn’t touch will be behind a locked door,” she said. “But there’s lots to look at, and plenty of books to read. Just put them back where you found them. This is the master’s house, and he does not take kindly to having things rearranged.”

“I won’t touch anything,” Will said firmly.

He left the kitchen then and wandered along the curving passageway to a spacious, high-ceilinged chamber, with hanging tapestries like those in his room. There was a large stone fireplace here, although no fire was burning in it. High-backed chairs were ranged about a large round table of dark polished wood. On the table was a marble chessboard, the pieces scattered across it as though someone was in the middle of a game. Will looked more closely at the large, painted chess pieces. Some were familiar, like the knights on horseback, but others were strange to him. One was a tall, hooded figure in white that troubled him for some reason he did not understand.

In one corner stood a suit of armour, its metal plates tarnished to a yellowish-grey and much marred with cracks and dents. As Will inspected it, he remembered what Rowen had told him about the knights-errant. Dingy and battered, the armour didn’t seem to fit well with anything else in the room. He wondered why Rowen’s grandfather, this man that Edweth called the master, bothered to keep it, or didn’t have it polished up at the least.