The Magicians And Mrs. Quent Part 29

Miss Samonds set down her cup. "Some less green, some more. But, aye, every one of them."

But Mr. Samonds's eyes were brown, I recalled. This was peculiar and made me think of Miss Mew. Only female cats were ever tortoisesh.e.l.ls, and only Addysen women ever had green eyes. How was it such a trait could be pa.s.sed only to daughters, not sons? I did not know. However, interesting as this was, it did not explain the reaction I had gotten in the village.

I started to ask this question, but it appeared Miss Samonds had antic.i.p.ated it.

"They're not thought of as a good thing these days," she said. "Eyes of green, that is."

"Why is that?"

Up to this point, Miss Samonds had been talkative and open, but now her expression grew closed, even canny. She seemed to be thinking.

"The great oak tree on the commons in Cairnbridge," she said at last. "Do you know what happened to it?"

"It burned some years ago. That was what your nephew Mr. Samonds told me."

"Aye, it did burn. Nearly twenty years ago now."

"How strange that they have not planted another in its place."

"You think it strange? And did you know there was an old stand of Wyrdwood near the village that burned that same night? Would you think that strange as well?"

I recalled the dark smudge I had seen atop the hill just north of Cairnbridge. "I don't know what you mean, Miss Samonds." All the same my breathing quickened, as if I did know something, and my hands felt damp. I pressed them against my dress.

"No, you don't know, do you? I wonder if it is good or ill." She shook her head. "Well, you should ask Mrs. Darendal about it, all the same."

"Mrs. Darendal?"

"That's right. She's still the housekeeper up at Heathcrest, isn't she?"

I nodded.

"Ask Mrs. Darendal, then," Miss Samonds said. "She can tell you what happened better than I can. Ask her what happened to the oak tree on the commons in Cairnbridge nineteen years ago."

Before I could say anything more, she had risen and fetched me a pot of b.u.t.ter. I paid her, then found myself at the door. A mist was falling outside. I pulled up my bonnet and ventured out into the damp. However, as I reached the bottom of the steps, I remembered and turned around.

"Miss Samonds, you still haven't told me. The gesture the men made with their hands-what does it mean?"

She did not look at me but rather into the mist. "It's a sign," she said. "A sign against poison and bad luck." She tightened bent fingers around her cane. "A sign against curses."

The door shut, and the violets beside the step lowered their heads as the mist turned into rain.

B Y THE TIME I returned to Heathcrest, Jance was waiting for me. He hurried out of the stables as I rode up, took the reins, and helped me down. It was an act for which I was glad, for I was drenched through, and my fingers were so numb I could hardly pry them from the reins.

"Are ye well, miss?" He held me steady. "Are ye hurt?"

My mind was as numb as my fingers. "Hurt?"

"I went to Cairnbridge, but ye weren't there. An' then I heard word about Deelie Moorbrook's cow, an' my mind can only get to thinking. So I ride back here, an' ye weren't back yet. I was just going to ride out to try to find ye, only then I see ye coming up the hill. Are ye sure ye aren't hurt, miss?"

I a.s.sured him I was just cold and explained that I had gone to Low Sorrell to buy b.u.t.ter. He gave me a startled look, but he said nothing as he led me to the house.

Inside, he called for Lanna, and when she saw me her eyes went wide. She led me up to my room and helped me out of my sodden clothes. Soon I sat before the fire, wrapped in a shawl, drinking hot tea.

"Thank you, Lanna," I said when at last my shivering subsided.

She appeared quite relieved. I supposed I had given everyone a fright.

"Well, I know it was foolish of me to ride so far," I said. "But at least we shall have b.u.t.ter on the table tonight."

Lanna treated me to one of her rare smiles.

"The children-they haven't risen already, have they?"

She hesitated, then nodded.

So I had been gone too long after all.

"I will see to them at once," I said. Despite Lanna's looks, I set down my cup and rose. "There, I'm quite well, thanks to you," I a.s.sured her, and though my legs were not so certain as my words, I went downstairs.

I found Clarette and Chambley in our parlor. They sat at the table, books open before them. They had not seemed to notice my approach, and I paused in the doorway. Their heads were bent together. Clarette's hand was cupped between her mouth and Chambley's ear.

I made a sound at the door. Chambley seemed not to hear it, but Clarette's look shifted in my direction. A chill came over me. There was a hardness to her gaze that seemed unnatural in the eyes of a child. She continued to whisper in his ear.

"Good day, children," I said.

Chambley sucked in a breath and looked up, his eyes large and dark in his round face. Clarette folded her hands on the table. I entered the room, though as I did my shivering resumed.

"It's chilly in here," I said. "You must be cold."

"We're very well," Clarette said.

And Chambley said, "Where were you?"

"I was delayed." I stooped to light the kindling on the hearth. The hairs on my neck p.r.i.c.kled. I could feel her eyes on me. "I went to Low Sorrell to buy some things we needed. I'm sorry I was gone so long." I rose and smiled at them. "I see you've been keeping yourself well occupied in my absence. Let's see what you've been reading." I sat and took up one of the books.

"You go out riding when we're in our room," Clarette said. "You go every time it's a long afternoon."

I set the book back down. How could she know that? The window in their room faced east, and I always left from the west side of the house.

"You're going to be leaving us," she said.

These words astonished me. "What a strange thing to say! Nothing could be further from the truth."

"And Mr. Quent is always gone," Clarette went on in a low voice. "We'll be here all alone."

"All alone?" Chambley said, looking at his sister with worried eyes.

"No, not alone," I said to him. "I have absolutely no intention of leaving Heathcrest."

"But you will leave," Clarette said.

"That is nonsense." My voice was sharper than I intended, but I was tired-tired from the cold, tired of being treated so strangely that day. "Surely I know my own intentions better than anyone."

"It doesn't matter what you intend to do," Clarette said. "You're going to be leaving."

This was too much. I struck a hand against the table. "How can you possibly know such a thing, Clarette?"

Her dark eyes flicked toward the window. The curtains moved outward, then sank back. Despite the fire the air turned cold. In a swift motion, I rose and crossed to the curtains, throwing them back. The window was ajar.

A gasp escaped me. With a shaking hand I pulled the window closed, latching it, then turned around.

"Go to your room!"

Chambley shook his head. "But we haven't finished our reading."

I pointed to the door. "I said go!"

Chambley's lips trembled, but Clarette seemed almost to smile. She clasped her brother's hand, then led him to the door. As they went, she bent her head toward his.

"I told you," I heard her murmur.

I wanted to shout at her, but a heaviness came over me. As they left I sank into a chair and laid my head against the smooth wood of the table. She was right. I did want to go. I wanted to go back to Invarel, to Whitward Street, to my sisters and to you, Father. I wanted to go home.

The candle sputtered as it burned low. I rose and cast a look at the window, but I saw only gray outside. Then I went to see if Mrs. Darendal needed any help with supper.

N O, THAT CANNOT be." I heard Mrs. Darendal's voice as I neared the kitchen. The words were spoken in a hush, but such was the effect of the slate floor and the high ceiling of the hallway that I could hear as if I were standing beside her.

"Aye? An' if that ain't the case, then what else can it be?" I recognized Jance's thick country accent. I halted outside the doorway.

Mrs. Darendal's voice rose over the noise of chopping. "Perhaps there were dogs on the loose."

"It weren't dogs. Ranuff Brint went to Deelie's place and saw the prints. He said its paws were as big as his hand all splayed out. There aren't no dog that big."

"And had Mr. Brint come from the inn when he observed this? I know he is often there."

I could hear Jance's scowl in his voice. "Maybe he did and maybe he didn't, but he weren't the only one who saw those prints. They're saying it was a greatwolf."

The sound of chopping increased in volume and rapidity. "There hasn't been a greatwolf out of Torland in two hundred years. It was something else that took that cow."

"Aye, and what would that be, then?"

The sound of the knife ceased.

"What is it?" came Jance's voice.

"I thought I heard something. I was mistaken." The sound of chopping resumed.

I waited in the corridor, counting my heartbeats until I reached a hundred, and then entered the kitchen. Jance was just in the act of putting on a coat of oiled canvas. He nodded to me, then pa.s.sed through the back door. Outside, the gloom had darkened further.

"Did you find the b.u.t.ter?" I asked. "I left the pot in the larder."

"Low Sorrell is a long way to go for b.u.t.ter." Mrs. Darendal picked up another onion and wielded her knife against it. "Where are the children?"

"In their room." I expected her to ask why we were not at study. She only kept working.

I went to the stove and heated the kettle for tea. As I watched, waiting for it to hiss, I thought of what Miss Samonds had told me. Ask Mrs. Darendal.... She can tell you what happened better than I can....

But tell me what? Why the tree had burned? Or why the folk in Low Sorrell had made a sign against ill luck and curses when they saw a woman with eyes of green?

A thought occurred to me, something I had been too cold and dull to realize before. Miss Samonds had said that her nephew, the farrier, was one of the few sons born to a granddaughter of Rowan Addysen. That meant his mother had to have been an Addysen. And her cousin had been...

"Mrs. Quent," I said.

Behind me, the knife clattered to the table. I turned around.

"She was an Addysen, wasn't she? Mrs. Quent."

Mrs. Darendal picked up the knife. It gleamed in her hand. For a moment I half fancied she would brandish it against me. Then she resumed chopping vegetables.

"Her name was Gennivel Addysen before she became Mrs. Quent."

I took a step closer. "And she was a granddaughter of Rowan Addysen."

"I suppose she must have been."

"The folk in Low Sorrell acted very queer when they saw me. Do you have any idea why?"

"I imagine they thought it was odd that someone had ridden all the way to their village on a day such as this."

"No, that wasn't it. They made a sign with their hand when they saw me. A sign against curses. Do you know why they'd do that?"

Still Mrs. Darendal said nothing; the knife flashed as she worked. Ever since I came to Heathcrest, the housekeeper had been reticent, hardly willing to speak to me. I had always thought she simply disapproved of my intrusion, but it was more than that.

"Miss Samonds said you could tell me what happened to the tree on the Cairnbridge common."

Mrs. Darendal set down the knife. "You want to know about the tree on the green, do you?"

"I do."

"You think you want to know, Miss Lockwell. Do you really?"

I didn't know what these words meant. I did want to know. "It has to do with my eyes. That's why they acted so strangely in Low Sorrell."

"They're simple folk there," Mrs. Darendal said. "They don't put on airs, and they don't pretend not to see what's before them. They're country folk, and they don't forget things quickly."

"You seem to know the people of Low Sorrel well."

"I was born and raised there. And I never thought I'd leave. I never wished to, but when Mr. Darendal made me an offer, I could hardly refuse it. He had just come into his father's land outside Cairnbridge." She looked out the gray window. "Who was I to refuse that? And I thought him kind and more than handsome enough."