Spiral Path (Night Calls Series Book 3) (29 page)

To the left stood a tall figure with white hair and a young
face.

The butler?

“I know him as the butler,” I said to Shaw while still
watching the tall, elegant man in the voluminous, dark gray cloak. “He’s in
charge of the entire staff of the house. But they’ve been so busy testing me,
no one has told me his name.”

The man smiled slightly and bowed, the angle of his motion
as spare as the movement of his lips. “There has been no need for you to know
it, until it was certain that you would remain with us. I am called Kymric in
this time and place.”

Someone else had used those last words. Did folks ever use
their real name here?

“So are you Welsh?” Shaw asked, his voice soft and his hand
still on his wand.

“So many Celts came to America,” was Kymric’s reply. “They
are the ones who go forth in search of new worlds to conquer.”

“Did you follow me?” I asked, keeping my gaze upon him. I
wanted his attention on my face, and not noticing that I was drawing a
fingerful of power from the maze. “I know when a student leaves the building,”
was his answer. “I came to make sure that you were safe and not leaving the
property.”

My tone a bit sharp, I began: “I said that I would not use
the maze again until the Livingstons gave me permission.”

“The Livingstons should know of my coming,” Shaw offered. “I
am Shaw Kristinsson.”

“Yes, we received a message from your mentor,” Kymric
replied.

“I can go speak with them now or I can introduce myself
another time,” Shaw went on. “I’d planned to leave Miss Sorensson’s package
with the staff, but she saw the maze awaken and came down to investigate.”

“Yes,” Kymric said, the word low and dry. “Perhaps, Miss
Sorensson, you should seek reinforcements in the future before running out to
greet maze visitors. Not all who walk the spirit tracks are friendly.”

I exchanged glances with the unicorn. The Cat remained at
Shaw’s feet. Both ignored Kymric.

The
glenngarseea
was nowhere to be seen.

“And then there are wonders,” Kymric went on, his voice
softening. “I have never seen a unicorn. And to see a foal! We have been
blessed.”

Shaw glanced at the unicorn and said: “Time for us to go.”

The foal stepped up to me and shoved his nose into my
shoulder once more, nuzzling my ear. Then he turned and started back toward the
maze.

Shaw finally handed me the oilcloth of letters. “Write back,”
he admonished me as he pressed something tiny into my hand.

“I will—to Marta, and Cory, too,” I assured him, closing my
fingers over what he gave me.

“Good. I’ll see you soon, then.” I could tell that he was
reluctant to leave me with this strange man, but Shaw was not one to make a
scene. He’d already said more than I was used to hearing from him.

Good heavens. We’d be speaking to each other like adults
before you knew it.

I decided that the best plan was to walk straight to the
kitchen door while Shaw was still close by. In the doorway I kicked the snow
from my boots, watching the unicorn set foot upon the floor of the maze. The
path began once more to glow as a wisp of dark smoke swirled around the foal’s
front hooves.

How did they find the door into this maze, from a world of
choices?

Turns out I didn’t need to dawdle. Kymric was also watching
the unicorn, and he did not turn away from the maze until Shaw passed the
bushes at the mouth of the path. The light still gleamed, and I knew that if I
tried, I would hear the sound of the unicorn’s hooves against stone.

A weight landed against my leg, followed by a chirp, and a
trill.

“Best dry him off. Mrs. Gardener will not be pleased,”
Kymric pointed out.

“I’ll get a towel,” I said, pushing on the heavy wood door
to open it.

o0o

No one asks questions when it’s the butler who is
escorting you.

Kymric left me at the staircase. When I finally reentered my
room, the oilcloth package and a wet cat in my arms, only the firelight greeted
me. I had no memory of extinguishing the candle, and froze in horror at my
transgression. Dear goddess, what if it had set something on fire instead of
simply going out?

The candle in the center of my study table unexpectedly
burst into flame. I approached it warily.

A small, smooth piece of blank paper sat next to the
candlestick, a corner caught under the base. Words appeared on the paper,
written in beautiful rounded script.

Never leave a candle
unattended! Do not put extra stress on the wick spells! If you continue to
forget, you will be required to purchase a glass chimney to protect the flame.
A first offense is five demerits.

Thank you for your
attention.

Good evening.

It was signed
Miss
Crowley
.

So. The mysterious senior who kept an eye on the younger
senior girls had finally surfaced. She was rightly concerned about the candle.

I didn’t know if she would return again, and I already had
enough trouble on my plate.

Tomorrow was soon enough to read about unicorns and
glenngarseeas,
much less my letters. A long day beckoned . . .

I could not resist opening the oil cloth. Hand-folded
envelopes spilled out—from Marta, from my parents, from Cory, from Shaw, from
Felicity Hudson, from Jeanette and Matthew Hudson, from Idelia . . . I had a
lot
of letters to write.

I’d forgotten to tell Shaw about the biscuits.

At least I had something to write about.

“
Chirp
!” said The Cat.

“
I
don’t know if you’re allowed to stay inside or not,” I told him. “But if you do
your business in here, you’ll be a barn cat the rest of your life.”

The
Cat purred.

“
This
is important, Cat. I cannot convince the maids that you are harmless if you
misbehave.
Someone
has to follow some
rules around here.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out what Shaw had given
me. It was a tiny silver coin, smaller than my thumbnail. It looked very
ordinary . . . too ordinary. It was just a little bit too shiny for a coin given in
passing.

I wondered what would happen if I threw it.

o0o

In the middle of a crazy quilt of dreams, one stood out
starkly. It was twilight; soft, high clouds dappled like fish scales still held
the rosy tint from the fallen sun. Shadows loomed around me, for I was in high,
rocky mountains, though I had never seen such a place in real life. I climbed among
boulders, some larger than my parents’ home. As I stepped around a sheer slice
of stone, along a narrow corner, I stopped, the path blocked before me. Beyond
arm’s length a dark mass radiated heat, hidden in the gloom, as if a mountain
had belched forth molten rock, now cooling into new land.

Two slits of glowing fire appeared and then widened, like
cracks in scorched summer soil.

I smelled sulfur, a cross between strong garlic and rotting
eggs.
But I don’t smell in dreams, the
unicorns were not a dream . . .

Are you going to keep
our secret?
said a voice inside my head. The sound was deep and very, very
low, as if a bass singer in the church choir suddenly had a line of scripture
to recite.

“I don’t know your secrets,” I replied.

Yes, you do. Perhaps
you do not yet see clearly.

The slits moved . . . rose into the air. Slowly, like some
strange, burning bird, its wings streamlined, the lines of fire hovered above
me.

My mouth was as dry as fragments of ancient paper.

Warmth blew over me, a sulfurous gust strong enough to stir
my hair and move my skirt.

I had a bad feeling about this.

The glowing slits were widening, becoming more oval, as I craned
my neck to see them.

Flame erupted beneath the slits, and I knew that I was
looking at the eyes of a dragon . . . at only part of a dragon. They were never
totally in this world in this form, I’d heard. This one was black as mourning,
its scales sleek and pieced like a mosaic.

It would be better if
you keep our secrets,
the creature told me.
Better for all.

And then it winked at me.

o0o

With a gasp I sat upright in bed.

I could still smell the sharp, pure scent of sulfur, as if
my mother was burning some to fumigate the house.

Would it be safe to tell anyone about this?

Maybe not.

o0o

The boot-boy had staked out a corner of the drying room,
away from where sheets and clothing hung dripping. He looked very competent for
someone younger than me; his strokes on the napped leather boot were swift and
sure, the rag in his hand a spotless white. I’d say he looked Dutch. His fair
hair was almost white and his eyes, when he lifted his gaze away from his work,
were the color of a morning winter sky.

“
How
do you get napped leather so clean?” I asked, after waiting politely for him to
notice me.

Startled, the boy glanced up at me, and then blushed. “It’s
a secret, miss,” he replied softly. “My Da has things he makes.“ Then he said: “It’s
called suede, miss, when leather is napped.”

“
Is
it? Thank you for telling me. You’re John, aren’t you?”

“
Yes,
miss, I’m Jan.” He pronounced the J more like a Y.

“
I
am . . . Miss Sorensson,” I started, remembering that I was now
a teacher, at least some of the time. “I wanted to thank you for cleaning my
boots this past weekend.”

“
That’s
why I’m here, miss,” he replied, giving the boot a last pass and setting it
down carefully on a varnished bench to his right. Then he picked up a dirty
boot. “I do all the footwear for the household and the staff. Also some of the
students.”

“
I’m
both a teacher and a student,” I said. “I need to know if I owe you payment for
cleaning the boots.”

The boy seemed to suppress a sigh. “I don’t charge the
teachers, miss. Sometimes the professors give me a bit, for my materials.”

“
Well,
I should also give you a bit, but I don’t have coin.” Not that I felt I could
spend for a service I had not contracted for, anyway. “I’m paid in my classes.
Can I give you something else for your time? Some mending, some cooking?”

“
What
do you teach, miss?” he asked, glancing sideways.

“
I
teach the youngest students about herbs,” I told him, as if I’d been doing it
for an age. My first class would come at the end of today, and I was trying
hard not to be nervous.

“
Herbs?”
He sat up straighter. “You teach one of the herb classes? Can you make
something for upset stomachs?”

“
I
can. What’s upset your stomach?”

He shook his head. “It’s not for me. My older sister has been
feeling poorly. I’d like something for her. Her husband, he’s a good fellow,
but he’s only a journeyman. He doesn’t make much money.”

“
All
right, I can do that,” I said, wondering when I could start my own plants here.
I was going to need them. Could I grow them next to my own window, or would
Cousin Esme let me have a row in a greenhouse somewhere? “So, what’s causing
your sister to have an upset stomach? Is she sick with something else? Did she
get some bad food?”

“
Not
sure exactly what it is, miss,” he said, his hands quickly smoothing the second
black suede boot. “Ever since she started increasing, she—”

“
Hold,”
I said. “Has she told the midwife that she’s feeling poorly?”

“
Don’t
know if she has a midwife, miss. Aalt might not go see a midwife until it’s
time for the baby to come. She’s still doing her work, my sister . . . she just seems
tired, and doesn’t want to eat.”

This was hard. I couldn’t give something to this boy for his
sister without knowing how far along she was in her pregnancy.

“
How
long has she been increasing, Jan?” I asked, trying to say his name as he did. “When
is the baby due?”

Frowning, Jan paused in his brushing, and the color in his
face bloomed again. “I don’t know how long, miss. They said the baby was due
come Michaelmas Day, but it’s her first.”

September 29th. That could be the due date, or could be past
the date, since it was her first. Most first babies were late, as the woman’s
body learned what it was supposed to do. Either way, Aalt was early on with
this pregnancy, and should not have red raspberry leaf in a tea yet.

But a nice peppermint leaf and ginger root tea? That I could
do. It would be a good mixture to show the children early on. I’d already
decided to start with a version of my mother’s first lesson to me, recognizing Queen
Anne’s lace from among more dangerous plants. Then we’d work our way into
things we could do with peppermint, and finally I’d teach how it grew, how to
encourage it—basics that could be shared with other herbs.

“
I’ll
mix up a tea for her, Jan,” I said. “I’ll need to get permission to set up my
own herbs, but with luck I’ll have something for her before church on Sunday.”

“
That
would be more than fair trade for your boots, miss,” he replied, ducking his
head. “I’ll owe you a few more cleanings for it!”

“
Well,
knowing me, I’ll need them,” I said. “You kept that mess from staining, and I
appreciate it.” I wasn’t positive what he’d used, but I was sure I smelled mink
oil around my sheepskin boots.

Well, it was a secret, so I wasn’t going to find out today,
if ever.

“
Thank
you, Jan.” I nodded my head and started for the dining room. I still had time
for some breakfast, and brunch was much too far away.