Bran Hambric: The Farfield Curse (23 page)

She stared into his eyes, looking sadder and more ashamed than he had ever seen her before. Bran didn’t need to say anything else. Rosie knew that he found out her secret, and now, it was her turn to tell the rest.

"I—I know I should have told you sooner." Rosie looked dejected. "I should have, really. But I was afraid…afraid of hurting you, of making you think I was just going to go along and leave."

"You could have just told me," Bran said, nodding, though not angry at her anymore. He could see that she felt very guilty for what she had done, keeping it from him for so long.

"I know," Rosie finally said, looking away and putting her hand up on the refrigerator. "I just…didn’t know what you would do. Think I betrayed you? Hate me?"

"It would take a lot more than that for me to hate you," Bran said, and he gave a slight smile that he hoped would put her fears to rest.

Rosie saw it but looked away, leaning against the wall. "I should have anyway," she said. "As if you wouldn’t have found out on your own eventually. Sewey was too busy chasing all the Mr. B.’s in town to think of his own brother, right underneath his own nose."

"And, at the moment," Bran said, "right underneath his own house."

The sadness on Rosie’s face broke slightly, and she looked back up at him, as if trying to decide something. Then she reached into her pocket and brought out an engagement ring.

"See?" Rosie said, looking at it. "He gave it to me months ago."

The diamond caught light from the window, and just looking at it seemed to mesmerize Rosie’s eyes. Bran looked from it to her and then back again. The ring was simple, though the diamond was pure and dazzling.

"So you really do love him enough?" Bran whispered. Rosie looked up and met his eyes, and he could see in them that it was true.

"Well then," Bran said, "there’s not a moment to lose. Your future husband is starving in the basement, and we’d better finish his sandwich."

Rosie’s face finally brightened. "Both of us will do it, faster that way."

Bran got the cheese and ham from the refrigerator, and as the bread was already out Rosie started to lay out pieces. Bran returned for the mayonnaise.

"I’ve heard it’s good for yenzimes," Bran joked, and Rosie punched him in the arm. She spread the mayo over four pieces of bread and had the sandwiches finished in a flash, and the room took a much lighter air as they made them. She bagged one up for Bran to take to Sewey, but kept changing Bartley’s sandwich, as if something just wasn’t right, until she seemed to discover the problem, and took a knife to remove the crusts. Then she cut the sandwich into the shape of a heart, separating the pieces. She smiled, her face aglow as she went to the dumbwaiter, and Bran left her behind to send down Bartley’s dinner.

The sky had become cloudy outside. Bran didn’t mind bringing Sewey his food, especially when it was in the evening. The sun wasn’t far from the horizon, and for a few moments, he felt free and alive as he sped down the street.

He rode on, steering his bike for a detour, and not much later he saw Givvyng Park coming up in front of him. All the tents and streamers were gone, and the place was deserted. He could see the same spot where the booths had been, and the dirty parking lot on the other side, and the strip of road where he had stopped the truck. The huge form of the Givvyng Tree towered above the park, its branches hanging out like a giant canopy. It was so big around, it was larger than the width of the Wilomas’ living room, like a giant watching over the city of Dunce day and night.

As he passed through the park, he thought about Rosie and Bartley. Bran knew Rosie wasn’t the type to rush into a decision like that. She would have to think about it, and once she made up her mind, it was right. Bran knew that if Rosie trusted Bartley, then he would trust him too; and if Rosie loved Bartley, then he would too.

But just thinking it and doing it were two entirely different things. Part of him wished that someone would just tell him what to do and how to act, but no one was there to do it for him, so it was all up to him to figure it out. He let his thoughts release for the rest of the way, and he hurriedly parked his bike in the alley beside the bank. Inside, Adi was at her desk.

"Good evening," she said, staring at her computer.

"Hello, Adi," Bran said, closing the door behind him. Adi immediately looked up.

"Oh, Bran," she said. "I wasn’t expecting you this evening."

"I wasn’t expecting to come here either," Bran said. "It’s one of those rare days when Sewey’s working late. How is he, anyway?"

"Awful!" Sewey burst, exiting his office. "Simply
awful!
Where’s my dinner?"

Bran set it on Adi’s desk. Adi smiled, but there was something behind it, and he noticed that she looked him over for a few seconds before going back to her keyboard. Sewey, however, was obviously in a rotten mood, and he dropped a stack of paperwork onto Adi’s desk.

"This is misery," Sewey snorted. "I’m through with working anyhow. I’m eating at home!"

"Then why did I come all the way here?" Bran objected.

"Enough from you!" Sewey burst, grabbing his coat. "I’m leaving, and that’s the end of it!"

With that, Sewey was out the door. Bran dashed behind him but only managed to get outside just as Sewey leapt into the car and pulled off, without even giving him a second thought.

The car was halfway down the road when it stopped, switched gears, and started backward, stopping in front of the bank again.

"I guess he’s going to take me home after all," Bran muttered to himself, very much taken aback. Sewey rolled his window down and furiously waved at Bran to come.

"Here, Bran," Sewey said, shuffling around in his briefcase. "I need you to stick these on the front door of the bank."

Sewey picked something out from the papers and shoved it into his hand. Bran looked down and saw that it was a rectangular sticker, typed with words in bold lettering:

ABSOLUTELY

NO SOLICITORS

"Put it where everyone can see," Sewey said. "I want them to know the TBD’s strict policy on politics."

"Politics?" Bran said. "I’m wondering how banning the sale of items by peddlers will show anyone your political views."

"What, what?" Sewey said. "Oh, no, I’m afraid you’re dreadfully mistaken. A
solicitor
is someone who is pro-gnome. And we don’t allow them at all."

"It’s not a peddler?" Bran asked.

"No, it’s not. Not anymore, at least," Sewey said, shaking his head. "The mayor suggested we stick it on all doors of every business that’s properly anti-gnome. You
do
need to keep up to date with the changing definitions of things."

With that, Sewey pushed on the pedal, without even giving Bran a chance to get his feet out of the way. Bran shuffled backward quickly, just in time to hear Sewey shout:

"Go get sticking!"

And he was gone, leaving Bran in a cloud of dust. Bran looked down at the sticker in his hand and shook his head, pressing it onto the door of the bank as he went in.

"Now I’ve got to bike all the way home," he said, closing the door behind him.

"Wait a moment," Adi stopped him. "I’m off too. Do you want a ride home?"

Bran hesitated, but found he really was too tired to bike. And, any chance to talk with Adi in a place no one would hear them was certainly welcome. He nodded.

"My car is in the back, this way," she said, starting to clean up her desk.

Bran’s bike wouldn’t fit in her trunk, so luckily she had some cords to tie the lid down and just left the tire sticking out. Her car was navy blue and had leather seats, not schweezing even once as they pulled from the parking lot behind the bank.

They were silent for a while. The air was tense, and Bran kept trying to make himself say something, but every time he opened his mouth no words would come. It seemed that for days he had had so many questions he wanted to ask, but suddenly they were all gone.

"All right, Bran, I’ve got to get right to it," Adi began without warning. "I don’t know what to do with you." She glanced at him. "You and me: we’re both in a grave situation—a very grave situation."

It’s worse than even
you
know,
Bran thought, mulling over what he had learned from Astara.

"But Bran…you’re different than the rest of us." Adi went on. "What you have could…" She looked back at the road and let out a deep breath. "It could really make things difficult."

"What do you mean?" Bran asked.

She started to say something but decided against it, and looked back to the road. He felt as if she were a wall, and she kept laying up more bricks to make herself stronger. There were so many questions in his mind, so many he didn’t know the answers to.

"And I hope you don’t hate me for this," Adi said, and she glanced at him. There was a deep sadness in her eyes, almost like she had been betrayed by him, when Bran had done nothing at all. They sat in stony silence for a long while, not saying a single word, but pages being written between them as she drove on.

"There’s the turn for Bolton Road," Bran said, seeing it coming close. He said it just as she passed it up. "You passed it…" he said, pointing back over the seat.

"We’re not going to Bolton Road," she said, and the tone of her voice caused fear to creep under his skin.

Chapter 19

The House on Hadnet Lane

There was nothing bran could do. He looked at Adi, but her face was set with determination. She turned onto another road, the sign reading Hadnet Lane.

"Where are you taking me?" he stammered.

She didn’t answer, and her silence seemed to press on him like a weight.

The car slowed about halfway down the street. The house they had come to was small and had a white stone front, with a miniature yard that was enclosed by a black metal fence. The gate on the front was against the sidewalk and had the number 108 twisted into the metal. All the houses on the street were pressed close together with similar fences and sequential numbers. It was a cozy street and unimposing, though to Bran it seemed ominous.

"Time to get out now," Adi said, taking her keys. "Just be quiet and come with me."

"What do you think you’re doing?" Bran demanded with anger.

She turned to him.

"I thought you were trying to help me," he said, feeling betrayed. Adi let a deep breath out, but she didn’t reach to grab hold of him, like he had expected. She just sat there, and her eyes became filled with sadness.

"Bran, if you want to leave, you can go right now," she said suddenly. "You can run off, forget everything that happened. You want to go to the police and get us thrown in jail? You can do that too. I can’t make you stay."

She looked deep into his eyes, and in them Bran saw the weight of thousands of secrets, all kept inside. He avoided her gaze.

"Go now, if you want," she said to him. "But if you want to come with me, and if you want to know the truth, and if you’ve got the will and the courage in you to make the right decision, then you make it; and whatever you choose, I won’t stop you."

In Adi’s voice, Bran did not hear anything of ill intent. He felt that she cared about what happened to him, and she was his friend. Slowly, he slid away from the door and back into his seat, and he looked out the front window, feeling bitter again. She reached and grasped his hand.

"I thought so," she said.

"Adi, I just don’t know what to do," he said, and her grip on his hand tightened. "I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, now that I know I’m a mage."

"Don’t ever be afraid to face the truth, Bran," Adi said, squeezing his hand. "If we can’t face the truth, then we’re living a lie."

"But what
is
going to happen to me?" he asked.

She met his gaze, but then looked away, as if there was something that she had wanted to say but couldn’t bring herself to do it. She squeezed his hand again, then let it go and stepped

out of the car. Bran followed her up to the house, the skies dark and cloudy from the approaching storm. Adi slipped a key into the lock, then reached for another and unlocked the second. Beyond, the house was dim, and Adi gestured for Bran to go in first. With a moment of hesitation, he passed her, and she locked the door behind them.

It was dark inside. The thick curtains and drapes over all the windows only allowed the faintest glow from the stormy grayness outside. Bran squinted and saw that he was in a long hallway with a light-colored stone floor, and that there was a sitting room to his left and another hallway to the right. It seemed much like any normal home, except that nearly every wall was lined with shelves, and every shelf filled with books. Shadows fell down the rows as Bran peered into the room, the titles too far away to read, though the spines of them tempting him to come take a look.

"The house is a bit too big, if you were to ask me," Adi broke the silence. "But more room for more books, that’s what I keep telling myself."

"You’ve practically got a whole library in here," Bran said, looking up and down the hallway as they passed. Even in there, the entire right wall had bookshelves built in, covered with novels and old papers and reference books.

"Well, you can’t exactly blame me," she said with a small laugh. "Most Illians are that way by nature."

Bran looked up at her, though he bit his tongue to keep from saying anything. He had heard that word before:
Illian.
It had been in one of the volumes in the back of the bookstore. Bran didn’t know how Adi would react if she knew he had been there, so he kept quiet.

"I’ve lived here for a while," Adi went on. "When I came to Dunce to be a part of the Mages Underground, the Special Services and Operations Division of the Mages Council bought this house for me. They even let me pick it out, and a car too— any car I wanted, all paid for."

Bran was lagging behind and glanced at the other wall. It was covered with pictures in ornate frames, paintings unlike any he had ever seen. They were on canvas with colors that seemed so vibrant and glowing, they almost immediately made all other paintings he had ever seen appear dull and boring. They were of farmhouses and dirt roads and sunsets and all sorts of beautiful things that were so alive, he wanted to touch them. He had never seen any quite like them before.