Part 29 (2/2)

”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.”

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