The Dark Hills Divide Part 14

"Would that be your final question?" I said.

"No! And quit doing that!" He was yelling now, having a hard time keeping control of himself. I was glad for the bars, seeing as it was unclear what Pervis might do if he could get ahold of me.

"Everything all right in here?" It was the guard from outside, with his head all the way in the room from where he'd opened the entrance about a foot.

"Everything is fine, sir. Pervis is just upset I beat him at chess. Can I have a few more minutes, please?"

"Only a little longer. We've got to move him and 169.

clean out that cell," said the guard, closing the door with a sour look on his face.

Pervis was thinking hard, trying to log all the possible questions he could ask, trying to figure out if I was telling the truth or just trying to drive him crazy. I think the drinking had hurt his mental processing power quite a bit, because he sat there mumbling and thinking for a long time. After a while he pushed the bucket out of the way with his foot and looked up at me.

"If what you're saying is true, then I want you to listen carefully. You may not like me much, and to be perfectly honest, I have never thought much of you. You're small, clever, and spirited, which is exactly what I was when I was your age." With an irritated look on his face, he paused, held his stomach, and let out a ferocious, gurgling belch.

"Do you know what happens to a tiny, energetic child who has no money, no promise, and no important a.s.sociations?" he continued, wiping his mouth with a forearm. "He gets beaten. First by a drunken father, then, living on the street, by bigger children. And at some point it's just life itself that starts kicking that child around. Pretty soon he turns bitter, angry, willing to do anything to gain respect. And who do you think that child, when he grows up, hates more than anyone else? Of course it's the same Youngster who he was, only this one's got the money, the powerful parents, all the opportunity in the world. This 170.

one gets it handed to her on a plate. That's a lot for a man to overcome."

Pervis got up and walked over to the bars, putting both hands on them to hold his weary body up.

"This place is peaceful when you're not around, Alexa. Every summer it gets a little harder, and I get a little angrier. Maybe I'm simply unwilling to see anything good in you. The fact is, I haven't had a holiday in twenty years, and it has been longer still since I've been drunk. The thought of coming back here to face another three weeks with you and the rest of them in Bridewell was more than I could take." He slipped down, and for a terrible moment I thought he would crash to the ground unconscious. He caught himself halfway to the floor and struggled back up, leaning heavily on the bars for support.

He continued, evidently about to pa.s.s out. "If what you say is true, then understand this, Alexa: I can protect this place better than anyone. I've put my whole life into it, and I'm telling you, I'm your man. So if you're interested and you're telling the truth, here's my last question -- "Can you get me out of here?"

"I don't know," I said, and then I told Pervis Kotcher everything.

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CHAPTER 18.

A A NIGHT HUNT IN THE LIBRARY.

After leaving the cellblock, I went to my room. Night had fallen on Bridewell while I was talking with Pervis, and a full moon was on the rise. I pulled my Jocasta out of its leather pouch. It was beating like a tiny emerald heart the same as the last time I had checked it. I was anxious to speak with the animals. I wondered if it would wear out faster if I didn't talk to them for a while. Were there any animals around here besides those traitorous cats?

"I think you were right to trust Pervis." It was a voice from the window.

"Murphy!" I yelled.

"Yes, ma'am, back with news from the forest," he said, flipping down off the sill, across the floor, and onto my lap like a hairball on a windy day.

"How did you know about Pervis?" I said.

"I was there the whole time, watching through the little window. You deserve an award for staying down there as long as you did. The smell coming up from that place made me run gagging for fresh air more than once."

"You're a regular guardian angel, aren't you, Murphy?"

"Actually, that would be Yipes. He's the one who 172.

keeps sending me to watch out for you. He remains concerned for your safety."

"How is he?"

"Doing fine, and he's a lot closer than you might think, hanging in the shadows near the wall. We have a chain of communication that starts with me, goes through Yipes, then Darius, Malcolm, some of the others in the forest that you met, and finally to Ander and the council. Then the messages come back up the line to Yipes, me, and now you." Murphy's tail was twitching back and forth. He darted off to the door with a listening ear, then back to the windowsill, and finally over to the bathroom that separated my father's room from mine. Within a few seconds he was back on my lap.

"I have word from Ander," he said. "He was surprised about Sam and Pepper, but as they are domesticated, he understood how it could happen. After all, they depend on humans for food and water. As to the hawks, Ander thinks the one you saw might be an isolated case, and that the rest of the hawks are still with us. He asked if you knew of anyone in Bridewell who might keep such an animal as a pet."

I thought about everyone I knew who might keep a hawk in Bridewell. But I could think of no one. Other than Yipes, I had never known of anyone keeping a hawk as a pet, let alone anyone around these parts.

"I'm sorry, Murphy, I don't know of anyone with a pet like that. Did Ander say anything else?"

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"Only one thing: 'We're running out of time, so get on with it.' Those are his words, not mine. I for one think you're doing a splendid job. Though I will admit, it does seem to be going a bit slow, don't you think?"

"I have an idea that might help get things moving along, but I'll need your help," I said.

'Absolutely! Pleased to help any way I can."

I spent the next few minutes filling him in on the details of my plan, and then we started for the library. The first order of business would be getting inside the locked doors. A few years back, a small cat door was added on the wall just left of the double-door entryway. No human could fit through the opening with its hinged wood flap, but Murphy would have no trouble navigating what for him would be a wide berth.

It was only around ten o'clock, so people were still milling around Renny Lodge. The smoking room had its usual collection of late-night attendants, and I could hear the cooks cleaning the kitchen and preparing things for the next morning. Murphy slinked alongside of me down the stairs, looking every which way, his slight feet making a quiet mist of noise like small pebbles dropped onto sand. An occasional creak on a step from my comparatively ample weight was the only noticeable sound the two of us made until we reached the double doors.

I whispered, "There's the cat door. Remember, no noise. Turn the latch on the door slowly or it will make a loud pop when it comes open."

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Murphy said nothing as he sized up the cat door. With his diminutive front foot, he pushed the wood flap slightly, then let it swing back. No rubbing on the edges, no squeaky hinges, it swung free and silent. He placed his head against the flap and made his way through the s.p.a.ce, letting the flap down slowly from the other side with his long tail. I hardly noticed a sound as he leaped to the k.n.o.b, balanced on his hind legs, and slowly turned the latch. It made an audible click as it came unlocked, like the sound of a peanut sh.e.l.l cracking open between a thumb and knuckle.

I had told Murphy not to jump down off the k.n.o.b because I thought the sound of his thud on the floor might wake the cats. He would be waiting patiently, balanced on the other side of the door. I turned the k.n.o.b slowly, and I could hear the tiny mechanisms inside quietly move around. I could not see Murphy, but I imagined he looked a lot like a circus clown rolling around on a big round ball, quick feet doing small hops as the k.n.o.b turned and turned under him.

Finally the door swung free and I reached my hand around and grabbed Murphy by his surprisingly bony midsection. He was thinner than I had thought under all that fur, certainly no match for either Sam or Pepper, let alone both of them at one time. I set him down on the floor and carefully closed the door behind me.

The library was on the third level, and it had wood flooring. Creaking as I walked was likely to be a problem, 175.

so it was up to Murphy to do the hunting. He was light enough not to make a sound while he padded about the aisles to find what we had come for. It would be my job to patiently sit and wait while Murphy found Pepper hopefully sleeping and cut off the medallion around his neck. This would be no small feat. The medallion dangled from a thick leather collar attached by a solid gold ring. His only chance would be to cut the leather collar and slide the ring off, then run for the cat door with the ring and the medallion between his teeth, two screeching and clawing cats chasing him all the way. It would have to be a quick operation -- cut, grab, run. It was the only way.

I signaled Murphy and he nodded and started away from me in the direction of Grayson's office. It was darker in the library than I had expected, and I lost Murphy in the shadows almost immediately. Seconds turned into minutes as I waited. Finally, Murphy returned with news.

I lifted him to my ear. "I found them both curled together in the chair," he whispered. "No sign of any hawks outside the window. With the light it's hard to tell which is which. I know Pepper is darker, but other than that, they're a close match."

"I don't know of any other markings," I whispered back. "If you're not sure, just take the one you can cut off the easiest and get out fast."

I set Murphy down and reached into my pocket to 176.

find the tool I'd fas.h.i.+oned for him. It was a small block of wood. With some effort, I had snapped off the smallest blade on my pocketknife, carved out a slit in the block, and jammed the b.u.t.t of the small blade into the wood. I took the makes.h.i.+ft leather cutter and placed the wood block into Murphy's mouth. He bit down hard, and I ran my s.h.i.+rt against the sharp edge of the blade as he pushed his head up. It ripped cleanly through.

"If you don't have a clear shot at the medallion, keep the blade in your mouth. It will be your only defense against them," I whispered. Then Murphy turned and was gone, swallowed by the black night of the library. I was immediately sorry I had sent him.

Minutes pa.s.sed. I heard voices in the distance, the echo of laughter, a clang of a pot or a pan being placed in a sink. Water running. And then I heard an unearthly screech from one of the cats, a sound I could not translate into words. I was terrified for Murphy and I thought my capacity to understand animals had already begun to fade. Without thought I grabbed for the leather pouch around my neck with the stone inside and clutched it tightly.

And then the voices returned. "Stop him! He has the medallion! Kill him!"

It was time for me to move. I opened the door and returned to the hallway. I closed the door firmly behind me, and lifted the flap to the cat door in my direction. All the while I heard a mix of screeching and words and claws on 177.

wood. I got down on all fours and placed my head on the floor so I could look through the small opening. There was still no sign of Murphy in the dark.

The sounds were much closer now: "Mrrrr000eeew!!

Don't let it get away!"

A moment later I had to move out of the way as a blast of sliding fur came shooting through the door. It was Murphy, gold ring between his teeth, the medallion dangling below. As soon as he was through, I dropped the swinging door and sat down right in front of it. Murphy tried to stop but continued to slide on the waxed floor. He hit the wall opposite the library with a thud; the gold ring released from his teeth and flew into the air, landing with a loud clang between the two of us. The lead cat in the chase came cras.h.i.+ng into the door behind me. The second landed on top of him and screamed from inside the library. It was Sam, yelling, "Get away from the door! Who are you? Return the medallion!" and other nasty remarks that billowed through the air.

Murphy came to as loud footsteps started from the staircase below.

"Oh, no," I whispered. "Murphy! Get up, Murphy!" Holding the flap down with one hand I took my knife out of my pocket with the other and opened the largest blade with my teeth. The cats were clawing and pus.h.i.+ng against the flap, screeching all the while. I pushed the flap as hard as I could and sent them flipping backward into the air. With one hard thrust, I slammed my knife into the jamb 178.

of the little opening. The flap swung down and stopped hard against the blade, locking the cats in for the night.

The approaching footsteps were almost right on top of us. I darted across the floor, grabbed the medallion, and whisked Murphy into my arms, then I tossed Murphy down the hall toward my room, where he hit with a thud. I turned and faced the approaching footsteps coming around the corner.

It was Althia, one of the cooks, and she was holding a saucepan in one hand looking as though she might hit me over the head with it.

"Alexa!" she shouted. "What on earth are -you doing out here at this hour making such a racket? You scared me half to death."

"I'm sorry, Althia, really I am." I needed to get her back to the kitchen so I could attend to Murphy, but the cats were still wailing and clawing at the door trying to get out.

"The cats were making this awful noise so I came down to see what all the fuss was about," I said. "I think Grayson has them locked in for the night and they want to get out. I'll tell him in the morning to check the cat door. It seems to be blocked probably a stack of old books or something."

I stood between Althia and the cat door in the dim light of the hallway and she seemed to believe me.

"I'm just glad it was only you," she said with some re 178 179.

lief. "I'm going back to my souffle before it falls to pieces. You best get back to your room."

She wandered down the stairs muttering about the cats and waving her saucepan to and fro.

I stood dazed in the hallway for a moment, shaking my head and replaying the scene in my mind, hoping Althia wouldn't return with more questions. I quickly advanced down the creaking hall to find Murphy and get back to my room. To my horror, he remained unconscious, breathing uneasily, blood oozing slowly from a wicked scratch across the front of his head. I carefully picked him up and went to my room, cursing myself for sending him into the library with those awful cats.

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CHAPTER 19.

MOTHERS LETTER.

I went to the bathroom and got a wet washrag. Murphy was lying on my bed, s.h.i.+vering and twitching as if dreams of fighting off maniacal cats were racing through his head. I dabbed his wound and cleaned the fur matted with blood around his eyes and nose. What really bothered me was the considerable b.u.mp I found on his forehead. It was either from his crash into the wall after the chase or, heaven forbid, from the impact of being thrown onto the landing.

While Murphy remained quiet I dug into my pocket and removed the medallion and the gold ring. Like the one from Sam's neck, this one had a beautiful pattern etched on its surface. I hoped the Jocasta hidden beneath would grant me some new insight I desperately needed. I lifted the throw rug beneath my bed. Under it was a loose floorboard, which I popped out. In the small s.p.a.ce below the floorboard I kept my tools, Warvold's silver key, his favorite book, my mother's broken spygla.s.s, and the printer's gla.s.s with its damaged lens.

I removed the printer's gla.s.s and covered the hole again with the board and the carpet. When I came back up to the bed, Murphy was sitting up straight, licking one of his paws.

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"You're all right!" I placed my hand on his head and petted him gently.

"Couldn't be better. Most excitement I've had since a coyote chased me up a tree a month ago. Quite a good headache, but otherwise, all in one piece," he said.

I was ecstatic to see him up and about. "What happened? Tell me everything," I said.

"Well, let me think it was dark, hard to get a read on things at first. I decided my best chance was to wrap my hind legs around Pepper's neck and sit on his head all in one quick motion, then cut the collar, grab the gold ring, and hightail it for the door." He was up on his hind legs acting dramatic.

'As soon as I jumped on his head he jerked and jangled all over the place. I was flying around the room so fast it was dumb luck I was able to hold on at all. I cut the collar, which sent the ring and the medallion soaring across the floor and down the hall. Unfortunately, I also gave the cat a sharp poke in the neck, and he jerked his head back so hard it threw me in the air like a rag doll. There was a lot of confusion when I landed, but I was closest to the medallion. I ran across the floor, grabbed the gold ring between my teeth, and bolted for the door with both cats behind me."

'Amazing!" I said. Murphy beamed, the proud aura of mythical battle status hanging all about him. The story needed no embellishment; it was first-cla.s.s legend all on its own, and I had a feeling Murphy would be telling the story to children and grandchildren for years to come.

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"You got the right one, too the one from Pepper. He was fighting mad when I locked him in the library," I said.

I took the printer's gla.s.s and set it against the medallion. What I saw rippled like a kaleidoscope in every direction. The broken gla.s.s would make it difficult to read the Jocasta. I pulled back, reviewed the gla.s.s, and found the largest unbroken piece. Then I got down on the floor on my knees and pushed the broken lens out of the metal frame. It fell in bits and pieces onto the floor. I took the largest shard of what was left, about a quarter of the whole lens, and sat back up on the bed.

"Do you think it will work?" asked Murphy.

"I think it will, but it may take a while to see everything," I replied.

As it turned out, it was a simple Jocasta a diagram of three boxes. Two had a line joining them; the third was unattached. The end of the line formed an arrow, which pointed to the third box. It looked like this: 183.

I wrote the diagram down on a piece of paper and cleaned up the gla.s.s on the floor. Murphy and I puzzled over the diagram for a few minutes without any idea what it might mean.

Finally, Murphy said, "I'm sorry, Alexa, but I must go report to Yipes. He'll be worried I haven't checked in, and Ander will want an update." He jumped down, ran across the floor, and popped up onto the windowsill.

What do you say I coat our progress with a little honey?"

"Fine by me," I replied. "Though I'm at a dead end as far as I can tell, and I have no idea what to try next. This Jocasta was my big hope, and it was a failure. Sorry I sent you into all that trouble for no reason."

"Not to worry, I enjoyed it immensely. I'm a wartime hero; they'll probably decorate me with medals and give me a parade when this is all over with. What more could a squirrel ask for?"