The Dark Hills Divide Part 5

CHAPTER 8.

The First Jocasta The next day Bridewell became empty again with the last of the visitors streaming out of the gates toward home. As I walked around, I saw Pervis and his men raising and lowering different gates, checking identifications, searching carts, and generally controlling the flow of people out of Bridewell. I had to admit, he an a tight s.h.i.+p, and his men seemed more than agreeable to follow his lead.

During my morning stroll around town, I noticed Silas waiting his turn at the Lathbury gate, and I ran to his cart to greet him. I had given him my letter at breakfast, and he had been more than happy to get on the road and deliver it personally to my mother's front gate. "Your father has a package for her as well. She will be so pleased to hear from you both," he had said. If only he knew how unhappy my mother was sure to be after reading my letter!

I arrived at the side of his cart and looked up at him. "It looks as though you have a bit of a wait getting out of town. Six carts in front of yours and the sun is already baking the leather off your boots."

"I'm a traveling man, Alexa always have been. Being on my cart with Maiden and Jaz pulling me around is fine by me, no matter the weather," said Silas.

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"Try not to get those old sawhorses into any races on the way home. They might go belly-up this time and leave you stranded," I said.

"Stop making fun of my horses!" yelled Silas. He was right; it was a careless attempt at being witty. A bad habit I had picked up from my father.

"Sorry, Silas." I moved in front of Maiden and Jaz and patted their noses softly. "And sorry to you, too. You are grand steeds, head and shoulders above all the other horses in the Bridewell barn." This put a smile on Silas's face, and he gave me a wink. I liked Silas; he was my kind of mail carrier.

The gate opened and carts lurched forward. I jumped out of the way so the horses could advance, and they stumbled forward a few steps, now five carts away from being set free on the road to Lathbury. Silas had some waiting left to do, and I decided to head back to the library before my reading spot became so hot I would sooner fry an egg on my chair than sit on it.

Upon arrival, I went to see Grayson, but he was strangely absent. His office was in its normal state: half- repaired books piled up all over, various tools strewn about, a sweater half hanging, half falling off a chair. He had been in, that much was for sure, since it was he who opened the library every morning. He must have stepped into the kitchen for something to eat.

I shrugged my shoulders and walked in the direction of my chair, stopping on the way to retrieve a volume of

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stories and a favorite book of poetry. I also had Warvold's book with me, which I planned to spend the better part of the morning browsing through.

Safely tucked into my chair, I had a brief moment of anxiety as I realized the possibility of another encounter with Pervis. This time Grayson was not in the library to save me. Just as I was nursing this unpleasant thought, Sam jumped up on my lap, followed a second later by Pepper. They purred and dug their heads into my chest, looking for all the scratching they could get. I kept rubbing Pepper's belly, only to have him turn and force his head under my hand.

"Since when did you cast off belly rubs?" I said out loud. He just kept on pus.h.i.+ng his head into my chest, and then Sam started in with the same routine. I grabbed them both by the nape and lifted them up to my face. I stared them in the eye and they each gave a single meow. Then my gaze focused down to the jeweled collars and the medallions hanging from them.

For a moment I went cold, paralyzed, as I'd been when I'd realized Warvold was dead. Meow, meow! the cats screamed. I had forgotten I was still holding them both up by the backs of their necks.

I set them both down and apologized as I tried to gain my composure. The cats sat at attention and I took their collars in my hands. The medallions were each about an I inch square; one was green and one red. They were adorned with beautiful alternating patterns. Since the

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cats had belonged to Renny, it was certainly possible that the medallions contained Jocastas. I was beside myself with antic.i.p.ation about what they might reveal, and I knew exactly where I could find what I needed to unlock the mystery of the gems.

I leaped up, quickly placing the cats on the chair and pointing my finger at them. "Don't go anywhere, you two," I said. "I'll be right back." I ran down the zigzag aisles of books toward the front of the library.

When I arrived at the door to Grayson's office, I was overjoyed to find that he had yet to return from what I could only a.s.sume was a raid on the kitchen. I crept into his office and slid open the drawers to his desk. Grayson was more of a slob than I had imagined. The first two drawers were completely jammed with wads of paper, spines from old books, and various tools in ill repair. One drawer after another turned up the same collection of junk. The last drawer I looked in contained a half-eaten sandwich ripe from at least a week of neglect. It smelled worse than PKB (Pervis Kotcher Breath).

I slumped back in Grayson's chair and scanned the shelves, also loaded with old books and other junk. At the end of one shelf was a wood box with a latch. The box had been untouched for some time, and the lid was covered with dust. Upon opening it, I found a number of old tools, and the one thing I had been looking for: a printer's gla.s.s ring. It was just the thing for viewing a Jocasta. Powerful and precise, the printer's ring was used to

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magnify broken type and aid in the meticulous filling in of old letters on a printed page. Grayson had long since given up the practice in favor of making the books look good on the outside. "Good riddance to fixing type," he had told me several summers ago. "n.o.body cares, and it's making me old."

I closed the box and was just about to place it back on the shelf when I heard the library door open. Footsteps approached as I fumbled with the box, and I almost dropped it to the floor with a bang before safely replacing it where I had found it. I pocketed the printer's gla.s.s ring just as Grayson appeared in the doorway.

He grinned, rubbing his belly. A red, sticky-looking substance crowned his gray mustache. "I tell you, Alexa, that kitchen makes the best fresh strawberry jam anywhere. Mmmm, mmmm, I could eat it on baked rolls all day long." From the looks of Grayson's belly, he had been partaking of the Renny Lodge culinary delights on a frequent basis.

"You better cut back on the kitchen raids, Grayson.

Your walk is turning into a waddle," I said.

"Don't make fun of old people, it's in bad taste." We both smiled as he entered the office.

"What are you doing in here, anyway?" he continued.

"If you're looking for something to eat, check that bottom right drawer. Fresh vittles from the chef."

Under normal circ.u.mstances he would have had me

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fooled, but since I already knew the drawer contained a most rancid surprise, I pa.s.sed on his offer and bid my farewell.

"Please be there, cats, please be there, cats," I repeated as I walked back to my chair. I turned the corner and saw them sitting at attention, waiting for my return just as I had left them, licking their paws absently.

My hands shook as I removed the tool from my pocket and positioned myself on my knees in front of the cats. Taking Sam's medallion in hand, I placed the printer's gla.s.s against its face, and squinted into the device. At first it seemed like nothing more than a jumble of dots and intricate lines. Then, I focused the gla.s.s ring by turning it on its dial with a tic, tic, tic. The tiny dots and lines came together to form a wave of pathways, but there was no clear beginning or end, and no indication of what their purpose was just a scattered collection of winding trails. Could it be the streets of Bridewell, or maybe the pathways along the wall? There was a miniature sparkling mountain at the end of one dotted pathway, but that was the only clear suggestion of a place I could find. Renny really had been talented; this was an amazing piece of hidden artwork.

I raced back to Grayson's office to borrow an ink pen and some paper, returned, and meticulously duplicated the map on a full sheet. My lower back burned with pain from stooping over, and my eyes watered from the

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intense scrutiny of the Jocasta. I could now understand why Grayson had given up the process of fixing broken type.

Finally happy with my depiction of the etching in the Jocasta, I placed it on the sill so the ink could dry. I stood with a creak, my back screaming as I reached for the ceiling to stretch out my crumpled body. I was finished investigating Sam's medallion, so I got back down on my knees and hunched in front of Pepper. As I went to place the gem in my hand, Pepper violently screeched and lashed out with a bared claw, ripping a cruel scratch across the back of my hand. Wincing in pain, I scrambled back, lost my grip on the printer's gla.s.s, and hurled it as I jerked my hand away.

I heard it hit, and the pain in my hand was nothing compared with the cras.h.i.+ng disappointment of hearing the lens pop against the stone wall. Even worse, I heard Grayson running down the aisles of books in my direction, hollering my name over and over in a worried tone. I had only enough time to grab the printer's gla.s.s and see that the lens was covered with a spidery crack. I struggled to my feet and pocketed the second item I had stolen in the span of only a few days that had ended up broken.

"What's going on back here?" asked Grayson as he rounded the corner. "I haven't heard either of these cats screech like that in years." Then he saw my hand. "Oh, my, that's a deep one. What did you do, pull his whiskers out?"

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I didn't know what to say, so I just stood there, blood oozing down my arm. Then I realized I'd left the map I'd drawn sitting on the windowsill, and I moved between it and Grayson to block it from view. "I guess he was just in a bad mood today," I said.

"Let me take a look, make sure you're not going to bleed to death." Grayson took my hand and moved into the light at the windowsill. I stammered a little but couldn't find the right words to stop him. "Calm down," said Grayson, and then he was examining my hand in the warm light, turning it and dabbing it with his handkerchief.

"I think you'll be all right," he said. "It's actually not so bad, only looks terrible. Best thing for it is to leave it out in the open so it can scab over. In a few days, you will hardly notice it except for the itching."

Then he let my hand go, gave me a long, solemn look, and said, "I have a hankering for some more strawberry jam on biscuits. How about you join me for a stroll down to the kitchen?"

With a faint smile I nodded, and we began to walk toward the front of the library. At least we were away from my drawing. I just hoped n.o.body would find it while I was gone.

We walked the aisles of books, stopping here and there to fix up a shelf, a habit both Grayson and I had acquired from spending so much time wandering in the library.

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"By the way," said Grayson, "that's a mighty nice map of the library you did. Very impressive."

"What did you say?" I asked, trying to keep calm.

"Your drawing on the windowsill back there. It must have taken you quite a while to figure out how this place winds around. I think you got close -- at least it looked good from what little I saw."

My hands were trembling now.

"Are you all right, Alexa? Maybe we should pay a visit to a real doctor and make sure that hand is okay. You're shaking like a leaf."

I looked up at Grayson with a big smile. "No, I'm just so excited to try those biscuits and strawberry jam I can hardly wait." I began pulling Grayson down the row of books toward the kitchen. I had to distract him, and heading in the direction of food was definitely the best way to do it.

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CHAPTER 9.

ALONE in BRIDEWELL I wasn't ready to go searching around the library when I returned later with Grayson, so I retrieved the map and ran to my room. I stayed alone for a while and thought about what I would do next, then I went to the kitchen for dinner. When I returned to my room I sat on my windowsill, folded my arms around my knees, and gazed into the misty orange glow of the sunset. The evening breeze was a welcome change from the smoldering heat of the day. I had Warvold's silver key in one hand, my drawing of the etching in the Jocasta fluttering back and forth in the other. An hour later the orange sunset had turned to black night and I lurched out of the windowsill, crossed the room, and sat down on my bed.

I had a fitful night of sleep fraught with dreams of Pervis Kotcher's head bobbing grotesquely atop a cat's body, chasing me from room to room around the lodge. In the morning I awoke, dressed, and went to the kitchen. It was already hot, and the light breeze had completely disappeared. The sun would stoke Bridewell like a furnace all morning and bring it to a staggering boil by midday. I wondered how it might feel beneath the tall trees outside the wall on the cool forest floor.

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Breakfast was buzzing more than usual. Grayson showed up for more strawberry preserves, this time on pancakes. Ganesh, my father, and Nicolas were in a debate over land use and expansion between Lunenburg and Ainsworth. Silas had returned from Lathbury earlier in the morning and was busy putting the finis.h.i.+ng touches on a plate filled with toast, biscuits, and hotcakes, all covered with thick red jam, no doubt on advice from Grayson.

I poked Silas in the ribs from behind and greeted him.

"Back so soon? I thought you would be gone at least an ., other day."

Both he and Grayson turned in my direction. "You know those old horses of mine, they would rather ride in the dark than in the heat of the day," said Silas, and then he looked at me with a squinted eye. "If you tell them I said that, I'll glue your shoes together."