The Quest (41 page)

“I promise it will be safe and painless,” said the Historian.

“What if you don’t find what you’re looking for?”

“I may appear to be a child, Adrian, but I am mature enough to honor my promises.”

I threw one more dirty look at Terry and then nodded to the Historian.

“Good,” the Historian said curtly. “We have a deal.”

“How are you going to read my history?” I asked.

“I have just finished reading it,” the Historian informed me. “And I thank you.”

“That was fast,” I remarked. No wonder the Historian was regarded by many as a living god.

“I will have to consider this information very carefully,” said the Historian. “One of my servants will escort you back to your dining room now. I can sense the child healer fretting over you.”

“Alia can wait,” I said. “You have my history so now it’s our turn.”

“All in good time. Go finish your dessert.”

“But you promised to answer our questions!”

The Historian’s eyes flashed with anger again. “I will answer them, young Adrian. But I never said that I will do so today. Return to the guest house. Rest and recover your strength. We will speak again when I deem you ready.”

I was about to protest further, but Terry painfully twisted my arm and, bowing low, said to the Historian in a humble voice, “Thank you, Mr. Historian. We are greatly in your debt.”

Terry dragged me out of the Historian’s office. The female servant was waiting for us just outside the double doors.

As we followed the woman back through the maze of rooms and corridors, Terry said mildly, “That was some gutsy negotiation, Adrian, but you really do need to be more polite when dealing with a god.”

“Don’t you lecture me about being polite, Terry!” I spat furiously. “What the hell was that all about, anyway?!”

“I don’t know for sure,” Terry replied in an irritatingly calm tone. “Back when you were blind, I told the Historian a bit about you. He seemed a little surprised by your name and said that he wanted to meet you someday.”

“And you couldn’t tell me this earlier?” I asked sourly. “You couldn’t have given me one little warning before you offered me to the Historian like a lump of meat?!”

Terry said defensively, “Hey, it’s not like I planned it that way. I offered you to him as a joke because we didn’t have anything else to give. I didn’t think he’d actually go for it.”

I let out a resigned huff. “You’re unbelievable, Terry.”

Terry laughed. “I’m sure he saw right through me, Adrian. There’s no cheating him, you know.”

“I wonder what he was looking for in my history,” I said.

“Hopefully something about Randal Divine. Maybe something you didn’t notice when you met him last year.”

I shook my head. “That doesn’t make any sense. The Historian said he was looking for something from two hundred years ago. That’s before Randal was born.”

Terry shrugged. “Well, at least he agreed to answer our questions. That’s all that really matters.”

“I thought you were going to push him a lot more to fight for us. He could easily kill Randal if he had a mind to, couldn’t he?”

Terry replied in an uncomfortable tone, “Under those circumstances, I honestly didn’t have the nerve. It was scary enough asking him just once, and unlike you, I really do want to stay on his good side.”

I laughed and said teasingly, “Since I’m the one paying for the Historian’s help, you had better stay on my good side too, Teresa.”

Terry narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t hit me or even offer a nasty rejoinder. She knew that I had scored a point on her. That didn’t happen often enough.

Ed Regis, James and Alia had finished their desserts and were patiently waiting for us when we returned to the dining room.

“How did it go?” asked Ed Regis.

“The Historian agreed to answer all of our questions,” Terry reported happily.

James looked stunned. “How’d you pull that off?”

Terry smirked. “We traded him a one-eared idiot.”

We sat down and I let Terry explain in better detail. Alia had saved me some cake, and I found that my stomach had expanded a bit to make room for it. My dessert and Terry’s explanation finished at about the same time.

“We would like to be there when the Historian answers your questions regarding the Angel king,” said Ed Regis, and James and Alia nodded in agreement.

“That’s really for the Historian to decide,” said Terry, “but we can ask.”

Havel, the elderly servant who had led us to the dining room, came now to lead us back. “Masters and mistresses, I hope you have enjoyed your meal,” he said, smiling around at us.

Alia giggled and whispered into my head,
“I really love how they call us here, Addy. It’s like we’re princes and princesses.”

I grinned at her. “Don’t get used to it, Mistress Gifford.”

Getting up from the guitar-shaped table, the five of us followed Havel back to the common room.

When we arrived, the servant turned to us and bowed, saying, “Your rooms have been better prepared for your stay. You will find clothes and other necessities provided, but if there is anything further that you require, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Then he looked down at Alia. “Mistress Gifford, now that Master Howell no longer needs your constant attention, we have prepared a room for you next to Master Turner’s.” He gestured to a bright yellow door. “I hope young mistress will find it more comfortable than the sleeping bag on Master Howell’s floor.”

Alia looked like she was about to argue, but then just smiled and said, “Thank you, Havel.”

Once the old servant left the common room, curiosity dictated that we have a quick look inside our bedrooms to see what had been added. We found several sets of clothes in the dressers. The bathrooms had been stocked with soap, towels and other amenities. Havel ran the guest house like any decent hotel. It wasn’t exactly five-star, but cozier.

I felt tired but not yet sleepy, and as I sat with the others in the common room, I wondered again what the Historian had been looking for when he read my past. Perhaps it did have something to do with Randal Divine, but it was equally possible that the Historian was after something I had seen or heard during my months at the PRC, or in Slayer captivity, or even in my relationship with the one-of-a-kind hider Cindy Gifford. Some little piece of information that would only have significance within the context of the Historian’s vast ocean of knowledge.

Maybe something about Nightmare,
I suddenly thought to myself.

Back when I was looking through Ed Regis’s psionic database, I had been distracted by Dr. Denman and hadn’t read the file on the PRC’s mystery psionic. I really wanted to now, but unfortunately I had donated the device to the Walnut Guardians, leaving it in Scott’s care.

Telepathically breaking into my frustrated thoughts, Alia asked me for more details about the Historian, so I described him to her. Hearing what he looked like, Alia was now dead set on seeing the 3000-year-old child for herself.

My sister found it hilarious that the Historian had accepted “one Adrian Howell” as payment for our information, but she wasn’t as curious as I was regarding what the Historian wanted from my history. Alia’s main concern was, like mine, much more personal. “Do you really think he can find Cindy for us?” she asked.

“Let’s just say that I’m optimistic,” I replied cautiously. It wouldn’t do to get Alia’s hopes up again only to hear from the Historian that Cindy’s current location was a cemetery.

Alia looked at me hesitantly. “Addy? Do you think the Historian would know who my parents are?”

Her question threw me for a moment. Then I gasped. “I can’t believe I didn’t negotiate that into our deal. Oh, Alia, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t thinking at all!”

“It’s okay, Addy,” Alia said lightly, shaking her head. “I was just wondering, that’s all. Cindy first, right?”

My sister rarely mentioned her birth parents so I didn’t know how she really felt about them. To say that she was indifferent might be going too far, but I guessed that my sister, like me, cared more about the people who were an actual part of our lives. Of course that didn’t excuse my oversight, but what was done was done.

“I’m really sorry,” I said. “I don’t know if the Historian will answer, but you can still try asking when you meet him.”

Alia shrugged. “I might. I’m not sure I really want to.”

Ed Regis and James eventually retired to their rooms, citing exhaustion. According to the three grandfather clocks, it was only about 9pm, but our bodies hadn’t yet readjusted to a normal life.

Catching me yawning, Terry said, “I guess we should turn in, too.”

As we stood, I gave my sister a reassuring smile and said, “It’s alright, Ali. You can bunk with me if you want. Just go get your pajamas from your room.”

To my utter surprise, however, Alia shook her head, saying, “You only have one bed in your room, Addy.”

I shrugged. “That’s never stopped you before.”

Alia smiled up at me. “Thanks, but I think I’ll sleep in my own room tonight.”

I wondered if I had heard her right. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, Alia?”

“I’m eleven years old, Addy,” she said, giving me a resolute look. “Like you said, I can’t be afraid of the dark forever.”

I looked long and hard at her, and then nodded and whispered, “Good girl.”

“I want to take a bath before bed,” said Alia, and then laughed, adding, “A really, really long one.” She gave me a quick hug and then disappeared into her room.

As I watched her go, Terry said teasingly, “You’re actually disappointed, aren’t you?”

“Of course I’m not!” I replied forcefully, but not entirely truthfully.

On the one hand, I was exceptionally relieved to see my sister finally acting her age. It put to rest some of my fears regarding the psychological trauma she still carried from her past, including the berserker and everything else that happened since the fall of New Haven. But I couldn’t deny that I would miss her stubborn attachment to me.

Noticing my mixed-up expression, Terry giggled and said, “Well, she couldn’t be your little girl forever, Addy-daddy.”

“Please don’t make fun, Terry,” I said quietly. “I am happy for her.”

Alia’s nighttime murmuring would probably still carry through the walls, but someday she would grow out of that too. Terry occasionally joked that I was more Alia’s father than her brother, but perhaps she had a point. I wondered if this was how my own parents had felt when they were watching Cat and me grow up.

Terry smirked. “You might want to keep your door unlocked tonight, just in case.”

“Goodnight, Terry,” I said, retreating into my room.

“Aren’t you at least going to tuck her in?”

“No,” I said flatly, closing the door in Terry’s face.

Chapter 18: Answers and Stories

I woke early the next morning.

Half expecting Alia to come sneaking into my bed in the middle of the night, I had taken Terry’s advice and kept my room unlocked, but she hadn’t come. After changing and splashing some water onto my face, I stepped out into the common room where I found my sister sitting alone on a bright green sofa. The grandfather clocks showed a little past 6am.

“Did you have a good night?” I asked hesitantly as I sat next to her on the sofa. Alia was still in her nightclothes, and I wondered how long she had been sitting here. “No bad dreams?”

“Just one,”
Alia admitted quietly.
“But I’m okay now.”

I gave her shoulders a quick squeeze. “I’m really proud of you, Alia.”

“Thanks.”

Alia’s tone and slightly unfocused eyes told me that she wanted a little silent time, so I obliged her and we sat together listening to the tick-tocks of the three clocks until they all struck seven.

Suddenly returning to normal, Alia smiled and said,
“I haven’t slept in a room all by myself for so long. It felt so strange.”

“It’s got to be better than the kind of places we’ve been sleeping for the last few weeks, though,” I said. “You’ll get used to it soon enough.”

Alia nodded. Then she gave me a slightly embarrassed look as she said,
“I’ll sleep in that room while we’re staying here, Addy, but if we ever get back home, can I please share a room with you again?”

“
When
we get back home,” I corrected. “And yes, as long as you really want to, we can share a room. But you have to sleep in your own bed, okay?”

Alia gave me a toothy smile.
“Deal!”

“Now go on and get dressed.”

Alia skipped into her room and reappeared a moment later wearing a plain, dark green dress. In sharp contrast to our colorful rooms, all our clothes were basic in design and of quiet shades. I was certain now that they had been specifically tailored for us by the servants of the house who didn’t share the Historian’s eccentric style.

Havel arrived to announce breakfast at precisely 8am, by which time Terry and the others had been up for half an hour. Alia seemed happy that no one made a big fuss over her finally being able to pass the night on her own.

Breakfast wasn’t an insane feast like last night, but there was plenty of ham and eggs and surprisingly fresh milk. In addition to my telekinetic power, which had already been fully recharged, I felt my physical strength well on its way to making a full recovery.

The servants seemed hell-bent on seeing to our every need, constantly watching over our table to make sure nothing was lacking. Alia still found it amusing how everyone insisted on calling her “Mistress Gifford.” I didn’t particularly care for the fancy titles, but after months of playing househusband at Walnut Lane, it felt wonderful to be waited on for a change.

Delivering us back to the common room, Havel announced that the Historian would probably meet with us again in a few days or possibly a few weeks, but in the meantime we were free to go and do as we pleased.

“Weeks, Havel?” I asked in dismay. “How many?”

Havel merely smiled. “The Historian does not mean to be rude, Master Howell. He merely operates in his own time.”