بخش 46

CHAPTER 90

GEORGE’S THOUGHT

GEORGE AND PETER sat next to each other at a rough plank table, chewing hard. Neither boy had said a word since they’d entered the pantry and discovered a loaf of fresh-baked brown bread and a hefty block of Wiltshire cheese. They were now consuming these as fast as they could, each wanting to be sure the other boy didn’t get more. Both were good competitive eaters, Peter having trained at St. Norbert’s Home for Wayward Boys, and George at boarding school.

They were eating ravenously in silence when Molly burst through the pantry door. It hit the wall with a loud thwack. Molly’s eyes were red and swollen, and her face glistened with tears. George and Peter stood, both eyeing what remained of the torn loaf.

“Molly, what’s wrong?” said Peter, his mouth spewing bread crumbs.

“We’re leaving,” said Molly.

“Leaving?” said George, ejecting a chunk of cheese. “Now?”

“Yes, now,” said Molly. “We must return to London immediately.”

“But why?” said Peter. “We just got here.”

“To rescue Mother,” said Molly.

“But I thought your father—” began Peter.

“My father,” said Molly, interrupting, “doesn’t care about Mother.”

Peter swallowed a chunk of bread with some difficulty and was about to speak when Leonard Aster appeared in the doorway behind Molly, his expression stern.

“Molly,” Aster said, “that’s quite enough.”

Molly ignored him.

“I’m leaving,” she said to Peter and George. “You can go with me or stay here, as you choose.”

“Molly,” said Aster. “You are not leaving.”

“Yes, I am,” she said.

“No,” said Aster. “You are my daughter, and you shall do as I say. I will not have you wandering the countryside at night. Especially not this night.”

Molly stared at her father, then nodded slowly. “So it’s to be tonight,” she said. “The Return is tonight.”

“Molly,” said Aster, glancing at George. “You mustn’t—”

“I don’t care!” shouted Molly. “I don’t care if George finds out about the Return. I don’t care about you and your starstuff and—”

“Molly!” Aster grabbed his daughter by the arms, pressed his face to hers. “You must not talk about these things.”

Molly jerked herself free.

“I don’t care!” she shouted. “All I care about is Mother.”

“And you think I don’t?” he asked.

“If you cared,” said Molly, “you’d save her.”

“And you must believe me,” he said. “I shall do everything in my power to do just that.”

“Except,” she said, “the one thing that would save her.”

“Please, Molly,” Aster said. “Please try to understand.”

He reached out and touched her shoulder gently. She pushed his hand away. Aster stared at his daughter for a few moments, weariness and sorrow furrowing his face. Then he turned his attention to Peter and George, neither of whom had moved a muscle.

“I’m sorry you had to see this,” he said. “This is a…a very difficult time for us.”

Neither boy spoke.

“First thing tomorrow,” said Aster, “I will arrange to send you all back to London. But for tonight you must remain here. I’m going out for several hours with Mister Magill—the man who, ah, greeted you at the gate. The three of you will be safe and comfortable here. You must not, under any circumstances, try to leave.” Aster looked pointedly at Molly. “The house will be watched. If you do try to leave, you will be prevented from doing so in a manner that I regret to say could be quite unpleasant. Do you understand me?”

Peter and George, remembering the bear and the wolves, nodded. Molly did not react.

“All right, then,” said Aster. He looked at Molly again, as if about to say something more, shook his head, then left.

The next half hour passed in unhappy silence. Molly sat at the pantry table, staring straight ahead, resisting Peter’s and George’s awkward attempts to console her. George was clearly eager to ask questions about the confrontation between Molly and her father, but sensing that this was not a good time, he managed to restrain himself.

The silence was broken by the sound of horses outside, and the crunch of wheels on gravel. Molly, Peter, and George exchanged glances, then ran to the large main room and looked out the window. By the light of the moon, now high in the cloudless sky, they saw three horses, two of them hitched to a wagon. They also saw Leonard Aster put a large cloth sack into the wagon. From out of the shadows appeared the large bearded man, Magill, holding a rolled-up piece of canvas. Behind him shuffled Karl the bear. The bear was carrying a trunk made of smooth, dark wood, with hinges and latches that gleamed gold in the moonlight.

“There it is,” said Peter.

“There what is?” said George.

“Be quiet,” said Molly.

Karl laid the trunk gently in the wagon bed and slid it forward, then climbed in after it, moving with surprising speed and grace despite his massive bulk. The bear lay down next to the trunk. Magill covered both bear and trunk with the piece of canvas, then climbed onto the wagon seat and picked up the reins. He and Aster exchanged a few words, then Aster mounted the horse. Magill raised his head and made some of the odd barking sounds he’d made earlier; then he cocked his ear, listening. He nodded at Aster, and both men flicked their reins, starting up the driveway.

At the end of the drive, Aster dismounted and opened the gate. When the wagon had passed through to the road, Aster led his horse through, closed the gate, locked it, and remounted. In a moment the little procession was gone from view.

“All right,” said George. “I have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Be qu—” began Molly.

“No,” said George. “I will not be quiet. I am sick and tired of not knowing what’s happening. Without me, you’d never have gotten as far as Salisbury, let alone found this house. I’ve spent a good deal of time and money on your little quest, Molly, not to mention risking being eaten by wolves. I think I’m entitled to some sort of explanation.”

Molly sighed. “All right,” she said.

“Molly—” Peter warned.

“No,” said Molly. “George is right. He’s been a loyal friend, and without him we’d never have gotten this far. He’s put his life at risk for me. I owe him the truth.” She looked out the window. “And I don’t much care about Father’s precious secrets now anyway,” she added bitterly.

Peter shook his head, but said nothing.

“My family,” Molly said to George, “belongs to a group that for centuries has been protecting a very precious, but very dangerous, substance.”

“This ‘starstuff,’” said George.

“Yes,” said Molly. “That’s what’s in the trunk you just saw.”

“What is it?” said George.

“It’s something that falls from the sky,” said Molly. “It has amazing powers. Magical powers.”

“Magical powers?”

“Yes.”

George looked skeptical. “Molly,” he said, “I’m a student of astronomy. I know quite a bit about what falls from the sky. It’s rocks, Molly. Just rocks. I’ve never heard of any…starstuff.”

Peter smirked.

“What’s so funny?” said George.

“Nothing,” said Peter.

“The reason you haven’t heard of starstuff,” said Molly, “is that Father’s group works very hard to keep it secret. They collect it when it falls, so that people, especially evil people, can’t get hold of it.”

George’s expression remained skeptical. “And what do they do with it?”

“They return it.”

“Return it to where?” said George, smiling. “To the heavens?”

“Yes.”

“But that’s impossible!” sputtered George.

“Apparently, it’s not,” said Molly. “They’ve been doing it for centuries.”

“But how?”

“I don’t know,” said Molly. “I’ve never seen it done. Very few have.”

“So you don’t know that this Return thing actually happens,” said George, in a tone that Peter found quite irritating. Molly, for her part, remained calm.

“It happens,” she said. “That’s where Father has gone now.”

“I see,” said George doubtfully. “And these…evil people you’re keeping the starstuff from,” he said. “Are they the ones who kidnapped your mother?”

“Yes,” she said. “Their leader is this hideous creature, Lord Ombra. He has terrible powers. He can take a person’s—” Molly paused, and decided that if George was skeptical about starstuff, he’d be even more so about Ombra’s peculiar and fearsome abilities. “He’s very powerful,” she went on. “And ruthless.”

“And where is this…Ombra now?” said George.

“In London,” said Molly. “He took Mother to exchange her for the starstuff. But Father refuses to make the exchange. And Ombra said that if he doesn’t get the starstuff, he will…will—” Molly fought to control her voice. “He will kill my mother.” Molly put her face in her hands, sobbing.

“Perhaps he’s just bluffing,” George said softly.

Molly shook her head. “No,” she said. “He’ll do it. He’s a horrible, horrible creature. Peter and I saw him kill a man, an old friend of my family.” In that instant a picture came into Molly’s mind—a vivid image of McGuinn’s desperate effort to fend off the relentlessly advancing Ombra, and his fatal fall on the steep stairs of the White Tower. “He won’t hesitate to—”

Molly stopped.

“Oh, dear,” she said.

“What is it?” said George.

Molly ignored him. “Peter,” she said, her tone urgent. “Do you remember when Ombra chased us down the stairs at the tower, and Mister McGuinn fell?”

“Yes,” said Peter. “I won’t soon forget that.”

“Did Ombra touch his shadow?”

“McGuinn’s?”

“Yes,” said Molly. “Think, Peter. Did he touch it?”

Peter thought back to the terrifying confusion on the dark, narrow staircase—McGuinn swinging the lantern, trying desperately to fend off Ombra, then Ombra’s sudden darting attack, and McGuinn’s scream just as he lost his balance….

Peter frowned, trying to trap that instant in his mind. Then he nodded. “Yes,” he said. “It was just for a moment, before he fell. But yes, I think Ombra touched his shadow.”

“I think so, too,” said Molly.

“I don’t understand,” said George. “What difference does it make if he touched his shadow?”

“McGuinn knew the site of the Return,” said Molly. “He wouldn’t tell us, but he knew. And if he knew, and Ombra got his shadow—”

“—then Ombra knows where the Return is,” said Peter.

George said, “But how does touching a person’s shadow—”

“Not now, George,” said Molly, waving away his question. “Peter, I feel such a fool. Father asked me several times whose shadows Ombra took, and somehow I never thought of McGuinn.”

“It was just for an instant,” said Peter. “We don’t know that Ombra found out.”

“But he could have,” said Molly.

“Yes,” said Peter. “I suppose he could have.”

“And if he did,” said Molly, “he’ll be at the Return now. He’ll be waiting for Father.”

She and Peter stared at each other.

“I have to warn Father,” she said. She ran to the door and grabbed the latch.

A sharp warning chime sounded from under Peter’s shirt.

She’d better not open that.

“Molly!” shouted Peter, running toward her. “Don’t—”

Too late: Molly had the door open. She screamed and slammed it shut.

Peter got only a moment’s glimpse of the huge gray shape on the doorstep.

“Wolf,” Molly gasped.

I told her.

“What’s that ringing sound?” said George.

Ignoring him, Molly went to the window.

“There must be half a dozen out there,” she said.

Peter and George, joining her, saw the dark shapes, the glowing eyes.

“I don’t think they want us to leave,” said George.

Molly’s shoulders slumped. “No,” she said.

“Molly,” said Peter. “I can leave.”

“How?” snorted George. “Do you intend to fly over the wolves?”

“Yes,” said Peter.

George turned to Molly: “Has he gone mad?”

She ignored him, speaking to Peter. “It’s no use,” she said. “We don’t know where the Return is. Father’s been gone a half hour or more, on horseback. He could be anywhere. How will you find him in the dark? How will you even know which direction to go?”

“I can try,” said Peter. “I’ve got a full moon to help me.”

Molly shook her head. “You don’t know this countryside, Peter. Without knowing where the Return is, you’ll just get lost flying ’round out there.”

“But what choice do we have?” said Peter.

“I don’t know,” said Molly, staring hopelessly out the window.

“Hang on,” said George.

“What?” said Molly.

“It is a full moon,” said George.

“Yes,” said Molly, irritated. “Peter just said that.”

“Well, I just had a thought,” said George. “I’d been hoping to observe it through my telescope, though it’s been rather cloudy the past few days, but tonight—”

“George,” interrupted Molly. “What are you talking about?”

“An eclipse,” said George. “A total lunar eclipse. Tonight.” He pulled a watch from his pocket and consulted it. “In about an hour, in fact. The moon will pass through Earth’s shadow and disappear for…let me see…I believe it’s fifty-three minutes.”

Peter and Molly stared at him, “Go on,” said Molly.

“Well,” said George, “I was just thinking that the eclipse might have something to do with the Return.”

Molly nodded. “I know it has to be at a certain time,” she said. “Father was very definite about that. And he knew the time months ago.”

“Lunar eclipses can be predicted years in advance,” said George. “It’s quite a coincidence, don’t you think? The Return and the eclipse, both tonight?”

“Yes,” said Molly. “Quite a coincidence.”

“So if you’re right,” said Peter—a bit grudgingly, in part because he didn’t exactly know what an eclipse was—“the Return will take place in about an hour?”

“Yes,” said George.

Molly sighed. “But even if that’s so,” she said, “we know only when it will happen. We still don’t know where.”

George smiled a self-satisfied smile.

“What?” said Molly.

“If I’m right,” said George, “I know exactly where they’ve gone.” CHAPTER 91

THE DESTINATION

THERE WAS NOBODY OUTSIDE the tiny village of Amesbury on this chilly night. The sound of horse hooves clopping brought faces to a few windows. Peeking out from behind curtains drawn against the cold, the villagers saw a man on horseback followed by wagon and driver—nocturnal travelers, not an especially unusual sight on this well-traveled road.

The villagers could not see the silent loping gray shapes keeping pace with the horse and wagon, off to either side of the road, their paths taking them through the fields, out of sight.

The little procession passed through the village and disappeared up the road. The curious villagers went back to their firesides.

Two miles west of Amesbury, the road rose to a ridge. Reaching it, Leonard Aster reined his horse to a stop. Behind him, Magill halted the wagon, raised his head, and barked. On either side, the wolves stopped, waiting, watching.

Aster and Magill surveyed the scene. Before them lay the Salisbury Plain, rising gently to the horizon, the full moon illuminating it for miles. Just ahead the road forked. The left fork bore southwest, eventually making its way to the city of Exeter. The right fork bore gently northwest, toward the heart of the rolling grasslands of the Salisbury Plain.

On the left side of that road, a half mile away, clear as day in the bright moonlight, stood their destination. Slowly, carefully, the two men swept the landscape with their eyes: it appeared to be deserted. Aster checked his pocket watch, then nodded to Magill. They flicked their reins and, flanked by the wolves, started forward toward the Return.