The Dark Passenger (Book 1) (9 page)

“I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this,” Edwin said,
not worried about who might hear him. His mind relived the image of Sam hitting
his hand, and he felt nauseated. Whether it was Sam’s face or the words Sam had
mouthed, it nagged at Edwin, and he wondered whether hurting him had been
intentional. For it to be intentional, Sam would have to know.

He heard the spirit’s gravelly voice: “You’re dying. Your
body cannot heal dead flessh, and I sensse your hand poissoning the rest of
your being. It iss only getting worsse with time.”

Edwin pulled off his glove. The death had moved up his
wrist, leaving it more shriveled than before. “What should I do?” Edwin asked.

“You must finish healing it, obvioussly,” the spirit replied
as it wrapped itself around his hand. “But you musst act quickly. There are
more efficient wayss to heal, you know. You have sseen our power and what we
can do together. You sshould do it now. Then find your mother’s book and run.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Life will not be eassy to find otherwise,” the spirit
reminded him. “I sense very little else that iss sstill alive.”

“No. How could you even suggest that? What’s wrong with you?
And besides, you saw Nemain’s building. Even with their tree damaged, there are
too many weapons stockpiled in Chardwick for us to fight our way out.” Edwin
thought a moment, and then asked, “How did we fight like that? We’ve never done
anything like that before.”

“You accepted our connection. Fear and necessity pushed you
to me. Our connection iss your desstiny.”

Edwin frowned, and said, “I’m just so tired.”

“Then act,” the spirit admonished. “You allow yoursself to
die sslowly, yet you live with the people who killed her and learn to usse
their weaponss. It is a betrayal of your mother’s memory.”

Edwin banged his head back against the wall. As much as he
disliked the creature, its words still stung. “My mother’s memory… she killed a
baby to save me. I know it’s complicated, but… It’s always been that the more I
know, the more I wish I didn’t know. And magic…”

Someone appeared down the alley. Edwin could hear the
person’s footsteps in the crunchy snow. “Stay with me,” he quickly asked the
spirit. Hate it or not, he felt better with it nearby, and he would need all
his strength.

“Of coursse,” the spirit hissed. The spirit laid flat
against his hand, and Edwin slipped his glove back on. The spirit made his hand
itch, but its presence was reassuring. He knew the spirit preferred its
freedom, and he was begrudgingly grateful it had agreed. But the fact that it
had agreed also concerned him; his situation might be worse than even he knew.

He stood up and saw Walt walking towards him. “There you are.
You know Master Carrion is expecting you at his apothecary today, right?”

Edwin shook his head. “No one said anything.”

Walt scowled. “Of course they didn’t. No one seems to tell
you anything around here. Hurry, before you get in trouble.”

A few minutes later, Edwin stood in the middle of White Foot
Way staring up at Master Carrion’s sign.
Carrion’s
Shop of Alchemy: Potions, Elixirs, and Transmutation
, he read over and
over again. He dreaded having to start his apprenticeship with Master Carrion,
but it was cold and he knew he needed to go in. Inside, it took his eyes a
moment to adjust to the dark. The fumes wafting out of boiling pots burned the
hairs in his nose.

“I see you have finally decided to join us,” Master Carrion said
as he dropped something solid and heavy into a pot.

Edwin squinted through the smoke at Master Carrion’s baldhead
and long red beard. Sitting next to him was Sam, who wore an expression of such
loathing that only Master Carrion’s droll voice kept Edwin from backing away.

“Please come and sit down,” Master Carrion continued. “I’m
sure you’re wondering why I requested you for my service. The answer is simply
so that I can keep an eye on you. Now that you’re here, you should know that
alchemy is not only the most dangerous of sciences; it is also the most useful.
Sit here. Try to learn some of the basic principles watching Sam and me work.”

“Master Carrion, don’t you think it would be better if Edwin
took on another apprenticeship, one where he can’t cause much trouble?” Sam asked.

Master Carrion seemed to smirk behind his thick beard. “Now
Sam, play nice. I may not need another apprentice, but that isn’t to say this may
not be the best place for him, wouldn’t you agree?”

Edwin wasn’t sure what Master Carrion meant, but he was glad
to have a chance to sit down, even if that meant having to endure Sam the rest
of the day. He hoped by being forced to spend time together, he would have a
chance to discover what Sam knew and why Sam seemed to hate him, even though
they had never spoken.

Last night when he couldn’t sleep, Edwin had read a book
given to him by Lady Nemain on alchemy, and he found Sam and Master Carrion’s
potion mixing easy to follow. He rested his head upright on his good hand, but it
wasn’t long before he was resting his head on the table. He didn’t know how
much time had passed, but suddenly he was startled by Master Carrion’s fist
banging against the table. With Master Carrion standing next to him, Edwin
looked down and saw how much shorter one of Carrion’s legs was than the other.

“Edwin”—Master Carrion said his name like it was an
infection—“can you tell me how to prepare a Boarroot Solution?”

His mind was still foggy, but he knew the answer. “Erm, I…”

Master Carrion cut him off. “How about a Fowling Paste?”

“Erm…”

“The Golden Elixir?” Master Carrion smirked. “That’s what I
thought. Any of these concoctions could potentially save your life in the
mines. Sam, tell Edwin about the Golden Elixir.”

In a dry voice, Sam said, “The Golden Elixir, or Winwyrm’s
Panacea as it is sometimes called, is really no more than venom from the white-haired
bat. Diluted to different concentrations, its uses range from cauterizing wounds
to curing insomnia.”

“Very good. And undiluted?”

“Instant death.”

“Instant death,”
Master Carrion intoned. “Now, if
your life is something you value, I suggest you pay attention. Now Sam, tell
me…”

“Hurry, come downstairs,” Edwin heard a boy tell his friend
in the hall.

“The tickets,” a little girl shrieked, bouncing down the
stairs.

Edwin grunted and, with effort, pulled himself off his bed.
He could sense that the spirit was pleased that he’d finally gotten up. Almost
the only time he got out of bed these last few weeks was to go to his
apprenticeships with Mistress Schuylar and Master Carrion. He couldn’t even
bring himself to read. Walt checked on him frequently but seemed to know Edwin
wanted to be left alone.

“What’s wrong with him?” he heard Martha ask Ashton the day
before.

“I think he misses home.”

Edwin was glad that no one seemed to notice that he was in
pain. The death came on so slowly that he couldn’t always see a difference, but
he knew it was continuing its slow march up his arm. It wouldn’t be long before
it was as bad as it was before the spirit made him sacrifice his cat. It
worried him that he was so sick the spirit stopped haunting his dreams at
night, but even without them his sleep was no less restless.

On the ground floor, he noticed children coming in from
outside and going to the Great Hall. Walt was one of them, and seeing Edwin, he
said almost too casually, “You’re looking a little gray around the edges. Are
you feeling all right?”

Edwin pulled his black blanket tighter around his shoulders.
“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

Edwin nodded. “I think I just ate something bad.” He was
thankful Walt didn’t remind him that they all ate the same food.

At the head of the Great Hall, Headmistress Vanora stood
with her hands clasped and waited for everyone to sit down. It took a minute
for everyone to find a seat, and the room became quiet.

Filling her lungs, Headmistress Vanora began. “I’ve gathered
you all here to remind you that the winter fair is next weekend. Now, I know
the fair is an exciting time for everyone, and I just got our tickets.”

Edwin saw people tense but no one spoke. Out of habit,
Headmistress Vanora reminded them all to remain silent while she reached into
her pocket and pulled out a handful of blue and red tickets. Edwin craned his
neck to see; even he was excited. He had always wanted to go. Looking down at
the colorful tents each winter had been a regular reminder of how little his
foster parents trusted him.

“Unfortunately,” Headmistress Vanora continued smugly, “this
year we could only buy six tickets a day, so with me going both days, that only
leaves enough tickets for ten children.”

“But there are fifteen of us,” the girl with glasses cried.
Not daring to meet Vanora’s gaze after her outburst, the girl stared down at
her hands.

Headmistress Vanora glared at the girl a moment, then said,
“Yes, that’s right, there are fifteen, so I will be deciding between now and
then which five children will not go.” A chill ran through the group. Almost
cheerful, she continued, “That’s all for now. I will let you know my decision
at such a time as it suits me.” Vanora left the room, and for once she seemed pleased
to leave them chatting amongst themselves.

“I can’t believe everyone doesn’t get to go,” said a boy.

“Who do you think she’ll pick?” asked the girl with glasses.

“The Oculi will get to go for sure,” said another girl.

“Indeed we will,” Ashton agreed.

“That only leaves eight tickets!” a boy moaned.

“Maybe Vanora would let us pay our own way,” Walt said.

“And show her you’ve saved money?” said Pech. “She’d take it
for sure. Maintenance for Hawthorne or some such nonsense.”

“You lot have been hiding funds from the Headmistress?”
asked Ashton, his voice high and indignant.

Walt rolled his eyes. “Of course we have. How else do you
expect us to buy treats at the fair?”

“When the Headmistress learns—”Ashton said.

Walt balled his hands up into fists, and said, “She’s never
going to learn anything, or I’ll—”

“What’s it like?” Edwin interrupted. For some reason
everyone listened when he spoke.

“It’s wonderful,” a little girl said. “It’s the only time in
the whole of winter that outsiders come to trade.”

“They have all sorts of neat toys from all over the fire
lands,” said another girl.

“And entertainers and shows!” a boy added.

“A-are there animals?” Edwin asked.

“Sure, all sorts,” Pech said. “They have some exotic ones
for the shows, and some common farm animals for trade.”

The kids slowly began running out of things to say, and as the
crowd started breaking away, Edwin took the opportunity to sneak off and go
back to his room.

Floating out from his glove, the spirit waited until they
were alone upstairs to say, “You’re looking bad.” Oddly, the itching in his
hand increased without the spirit under his glove.

“I know. My hand is getting worse.”

“You musst do something quickly. These last few dayss you’ve
been acting like you’re already dead. Perhapss you need an incentive.” It
crackled a menacing red. “I feel my own energy fading with you. We must be
connected in more ways than we realize.”

This was news to Edwin, but looking at the spirit closely
now, it did seem its essence was less full and smoky. “No incentive is
necessary. The fair sounds like the chance we’ve been waiting for, doesn’t it?
I’ve been thinking I could sneak out one night after everyone went to sleep.”

The spirit crackled happily, and said, “That’s a good idea.”
Wind whistled against the window, but he felt comfortable inside under his
blanket. Neither mentioned how well sneaking out had worked for them at the
inn, but the news of the fair had given Edwin an energy he hadn’t felt in days.
He felt so energized he decided to go find Walt.

In the hall, he heard voices coming from Sam’s room. The
door was cracked, and Edwin peeked inside. “And why is he always around?” Rash
asked. “I know he’s your roommate, but it seems like you’re spending more time
with him than us.”

“Have you seen him fight? That’s not normal,” Drew added.
With his long torso, he towered over the other children. “What’s your
fascination with him?”

“I feel sorry for him,” Walt replied. “He doesn’t have a
family and he’s never had any friends.”

“Yeah, but he’s
weird
,” Pech said. Even his voice was
fat.

“Yes, very, very weird,” Drew agreed. Edwin sensed the
spirit bristle with indignation.

“But he’s not hurting anything,” Walt said. “I really like
him. Give him a chance.”

“And have you seen the way some of the adults look at him?” Rash
asked as he pushed his glasses up his nose. “Seriously, there’s something wrong
with him. You get in enough trouble already, Walt. I know your grandfather is
the Lucent, but—”

Edwin heard a voice behind him and jumped. “Are you going to
go in, or are you just going to block the hall all day?” Sam asked.

Pech turned and saw him first, and motioned for the others
to be quiet. Edwin froze.

Walt recovered first. “Come on in.” Before anyone else could
move, he was up and making room for him on Sam’s bed.

With everyone staring at him, Edwin didn’t feel like he had
much of a choice. As he sat down, he saw Sam wasn’t alone. Martha and her
puppies had followed a few feet behind, and they now sat on either side of
Edwin.

Martha broke the silence. “Why is everyone so quiet?” she
asked.

Flatly, Sam said, “Edwin heard Drew, Pech, and Rash telling
Walt that they didn’t like him, and now they’re all embarrassed.”

Martha smirked. “Harsh.”

“Leave it to Sam not to mince words,” Walt said
reproachfully. “Listen, Edwin—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Edwin said. An uncomfortable silence
hung over the room, which Martha again interrupted.

“So I’ve been meaning to ask you two, why are you staying at
Hawthorne?” Her question was directed at Walt and Sam.

“I told you,” Sam said. “We’re waiting for our aunts to come
down from Newick.”

“It seems like you’ve been waiting forever,” Martha said.

Sam shrugged, and then, changing the subject, asked, “Did
you hear about Master Carrion’s garden? The Lucent doesn’t want him to sell his
food at the fair this year.”

“Why wouldn’t they want him selling at the fair?” Walt
asked.

“Master Carrion has a garden?” Edwin blurted out.

“Yes, Master Carrion has a garden just by his shop. You
haven’t seen it from the attic? It has a glass roof to let in light.”

“No, I never n-noticed,” said Edwin, blushing fiercely.

“How could you miss it?” Rash asked. “Couldn’t you see it
from the ledge? How many glass roofs are there?” Edwin shook his head.

“Be nice,” Walt said, hitting Rash in the arm. Then, to
Edwin, he said, “Master Carrion is really proud of his garden. He thinks one
day Chardwick could be self-reliant, which would be huge. We would no longer
have to rely on Newick for trade. Most people think it’s crazy. There’s no room
to grow in Chardwick, but Carrion has the Lucent’s support. Lucent Weston even
donated his bathhouse to the project. It sits on a small pocket of hot water
from the only hot spring in Chardwick. It keeps the walls warm and Carrion’s
plants alive.”

“I don’t know why Grandfather doesn’t want Master Carrion
selling at the fair this year,” Sam said. “Master Carrion seems to think he is
preparing for something. I heard that Nemain was also given a short list of
weapons she can trade with Newick this year. It seems that Grandfather is
stockpiling food.”

“Grandfather always has been paranoid,” Walt said.

“So Lucent Weston… is your grandfather?” Edwin asked.

Walt smiled a sly grin. “Erm, yeah. Didn’t mean to keep it
from you. I was just worried, you not being from down here, you’d think it was
special. But no one treats Sam and me different, especially our grandfather.”

“Hawthorne isn’t so bad,” said one of Martha’s puppies.

“Especially if you’re lucky like Sam and Edwin and get to
keep an apprenticeship with Master Carrion,” Martha said.

*   *   *

Edwin snuck out of Hawthorne as casually as he could. “Why
didn’t you tell me Master Carrion had a garden?” he asked the spirit. They were
towards White Foot Way, and Edwin was careful not to talk too loud. It had been
hours since he had first learned of the garden, but it was the first time he
and the spirit had been alone.

“I didn’t know,” it hissed in his ear.

“How could you not know? You know everything and go
everywhere.”

“I know where it iss,” the spirit hissed.

“But you just said—”

“I didn’t know. I do now.”

“How—”

“The bells.”

“What bells?” Edwin asked.

“Come, follow me.”

The spirit rushed forward. There were a few villagers out,
and as Edwin raced to keep up, he wondered how no one else could notice a puff
of black smoke flying down the road. To him, it stuck out to Edwin like Carrion’s
abnormally short leg, which along with his cane, Edwin thought was hard to
miss. Luckily, the faint puff of smoke went unnoticed, but it still made him
nervous following the spirit out in the open like this.

White Foot Way was a long road that went all the way around
Chardwick, but the spirit didn’t take him far. Still, because it was past the
road where Edwin always turned to get to Carrion’s shop, it was in a part of
Chardwick he hadn’t yet visited. The spirit stopped and waited for him in a
patch of brown snow. Then, as Edwin drew near, it floated up to his ear and
said, “The garden.”

It was easy to see that this building was different than any
other in Chardwick. Delicate star-and-spade carvings gave the building’s walls
an appearance of luxury Chardwick hadn’t seen in many generations. Every few
feet the builders had carved a recess into the wall and each was filled with
statues of Lucents long dead. With serious faces and lifeless eyes, they seemed
better suited for a crypt than a bathhouse. But more than the statues, what
really caught Edwin’s attention was the fountain, which was filled with
steaming water even in winter.

“Woah, I guess Walt wasn’t lying about the hot spring,”
Edwin said. Away from the fountain the snow stopped just shy of the wall. “Why
haven’t you told me about this place?”

“The bellss,” said the spirit again.

“What bells?” Edwin asked.

But no sooner had the words come out of his mouth than he
heard the faintest sound of chiming lingering in the air. It took a moment of
looking before he caught sight of a small windflute hanging from the building.
Once he knew what he was looking for, he then spotted another and another. They
blended in with the star-and-spade stonework, but the old bathhouse was covered
in them.

“What are they?” Edwin asked.

“They hurt my essence,” the spirit said. “I dare not go
farther.”

A gust of wind blew past his face, and the windflutes chimed
a little louder. The spirit’s essence shook and scattered, and came back
together a safer distance away. The windflutes reminded him of Lady Nemain’s
horn, only the horn had never had any effect on him or the spirit. The
windflutes continued to flutter back and forth.

Edwin had to hide his excitement. He had never known
anything to repel the spirit, and his mind swam with possibilities. Something
like this could be his answer to getting rid of the spirit for good. Then
again, it couldn’t be a coincidence that the windflutes had this strange effect
on the spirit, and he wondered whether he should be worried that there was some
kind of trap.

Accidentally, he locked eyes with a woman walking towards
the mine on White Foot Way, and he wondered how strange he looked cradling his
hand, talking to himself, and staring at this old building. Blushing, he looked
away and walked around the wall, away from the fountain.