Part 18 (1/2)
”We know,” Walter Vogel said. ”Oliver's men were watching.”
”We came here, and when the courtiers arrived,” Heinrich said, continuing the story while Galen finally took a drink from the waterskin, ”we were overpowered at once, all of us. Galen, Frederick, and I were tied up, and we could hear Grigori talking to the girls in another room for some time. They must have agreed to go after Petunia, because after a while, we heard only Grigori and his men. Then they disappeared too.”
”I'm amazed that Poppy didn't just shoot Grigori,” Bishop Schelker said.
”She almost did. And so did I,” Galen told them. ”But he is the only one who knows where the new gateway into the Kingdom Under Stone is.”
Prince Frederick sighed. ”But now they've gone, and we still don't know where the gate is.”
”We are not entirely without hope,” Walter a.s.sured him. ”The gate is somewhere in this lodge. Oliver's men haven't seen any sign of anyone leaving.”
”Oliver's men again?” Heinrich murmured.
Oliver was strangely embarra.s.sed. ”They were worried about Petunia,” he muttered.
”And a good thing too,” Frederick said.
”We'd better find that gate,” the crone said. She turned and started out of the room.
”Hold a moment,” said Heinrich. He got to his feet, nearly falling against the sofa as he did so. He stretched and rubbed his bad leg for a moment, a frown creasing his face. ”What do we do when we get there?”
”Whatever needs to be done,” Walter Vogel said.
”Not good enough,” said Heinrich. ”What will need to be done to stop this from happening over and over again?”
”Seal them all up once again, and this time we'll make sure it holds,” the old man said, rubbing his seamed face.
”Can you be sure?”
”I haven't spent the last fifteen hundred years learning to knit my own socks, boy!” The crone looked like she might box Heinrich's ears, if she could have reached them.
Heinrich didn't look pleased; he looked even grimmer, if that were possible. ”You've found the way? Galen's studies-”
”Galen's studies are a wonder,” said Walter Vogel gently, ”but as the good frau has said, we have had centuries of time to perfect our original spell.”
”Last time it took a dozen pract.i.tioners, and most of them died,” Galen pointed out. He put a hand on Walter's shoulder and squeezed it. ”If we dared to take more time-”
”What did I just say to the other one?” The old woman jerked a gnarled thumb at Heinrich. ”We wouldn't have come if we didn't think we could succeed.”
”The power will mostly pa.s.s through the good frau and myself,” said Walter. ”The rest of you will be quite safe.” He leveled his gaze at Oliver. ”But we will need all of you.”
”Of course,” Oliver said, getting to his feet. He tried not to show how stiff the ride had made him. ”Of course I'll do whatever necessary.”
”And if you're wrong, Walter? About the focus? About the effectiveness of the spell?” Heinrich's frown had never left his face.
”Have we ever been wrong before?” The good frau smacked him on the upper arm, which was as high as she could reach. She looked at Galen. ”Well? Tell him!”
”No, good frau,” Galen said, with a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes. ”You never have been wrong.”
”I have everything here that Walter and the good frau have asked for, and the items that you sent for as well, Galen,” Bishop Schelker said, indicating a satchel slung across his chest. ”Let's find the gate and go. The princesses have spent long enough below.”
They tramped from room to room, looking for a way to reach the Kingdom Under Stone. In every room, Walter Vogel and the good frau would stand with their heads c.o.c.ked as though listening to something. Then they would shake their heads and move on.
”The whole house reeks of magic,” the crone complained after a few minutes. ”Did Under Stone's men tramp through every pantry and water closet?”
After they had searched every room in the house, they went back through the front hall. Walter decided that Prince Grigori had destroyed his gate after he and his people went through, and there was no point in lingering.
They would have to make their own way Under Stone.
Frederick moaned. ”How long will that take?”
No one answered him.
”As there is no food here, we could go to my hall,” Oliver offered. ”It's not very fine, but you could work there unmolested as long as you needed.”
Oliver couldn't bear to look at Galen's or Walter's faces as he said this. He could see that they were thinking that making their own gate would take not a matter of hours or days, but months or years. It didn't bear thinking on.
He reached out and nearly brushed the canvas of an enormous painting that hung on the nearest wall. It was a hunting scene and looked very familiar. He was almost certain that it had belonged to his family. In fact, one of the figures wore a dark tunic that clearly had been painted over, and he thought it had borne his family's coat of arms before. He squinted at it. The paint in several places looked wet, now that he gave it closer scrutiny.
”Shall I return to Bruch, while the rest of you go to this hall of Oliver's?” Frederick asked.
He started to add something more, but Karl and the rest of Oliver's men burst through the front door. Karl had an ax in one hand and a pistol in the other, and all their masks were in place.
”What's afoot?” Karl demanded.
”Ah, an escort back to the young earl's hall,” said Walter Vogel with a laugh.
”Karl,” Oliver said, holding up his hands. ”Hold your fire!”
When he lowered his arms, his elbow pa.s.sed right through the painting as if it hadn't been there. Oliver slowly removed his arm, then he plunged his hand in. It was as though there was no paint, no canvas, and no wall behind. It just kept going.
”I believe I've found the gate,” Oliver said.
He moved his arm back and forth. The gate was as high and as wide as the painting, and Oliver held his breath as he thrust his head in to look around.
”Oliver! What are you doing?”
He heard Karl shout, but it wasn't necessary. He could see quite well, and there was nothing to alarm him. Just a stairway of gold that descended toward a silver gate. Beyond the gate he could see a wood, also of silver, and beyond that the spires of a black palace. He drew back.
”That's the gate all right,” he told them, feeling almost giddy.
”How in heaven's name?” Prince Heinrich's mouth was agape. ”They walked through a painting?”
”And not a very good one, either.” The crone sniffed. ”Those horses have stumpy legs, and what are they hunting? I can't tell if that's a fox or a polecat.”
Oliver bowed to the old woman. ”When this is all over, I shall replace this painting with a portrait of you, good frau.”