Always October (29 page)

“What's so funny?” she asked, her ugly face made all the stranger by the flickering light.

“It's just that we're so used to torches and glowing moss and all kinds of strange ways to get light that a simple match was a surprise.”

“Well, dearie, whatever gets you through the night is what I always say.” As she spoke, she moved to the wall and took down an old-fashioned oil lantern. She lifted the glass part—called a chimney, I remembered—and lit the wick. The light was brighter and more steady now, and revealed to our left a wooden cart resting on a narrow set of tracks. It was about the size of something that would hold four people at an amusement park. Painted on its side were the words
OLD BETSY
.

Flenzbort patted the cart fondly. “This will get you to the top of the cliff faster and more safely than walking.” She pulled open a door in its side. When we hesitated, she snapped, “Go on, get in!”

We climbed into the cart, which had a leather-covered seat at each end. Jacob and LD sat on one side; Toozle and Luna and I sat facing them. Between us, at the bottom of the cart, was a board about three feet long and two feet wide. A wooden post, maybe six inches thick and slightly taller than me, rose through a hole in the center of the board.

Gesturing toward the board, Flenzbort said, “Put your feet there and pump. You'll have a good workout by the time you get to the top!”

Reaching over the edge, she hung the lantern from a peg on the post. Then she pointed to a lever at the side of the cart. “That's the brake. If you need to stop to rest, set it or you'll roll back down and have to start all over again. When you get to the top, set the brake while you climb out. Then reach in, release it, and give Old Betsy here a push. She'll roll back down all by herself.”

“Thank you!” said Jacob and I, both at the same time.

“All right, best get going!” said Flenzbort. She smacked the cart on the side, turned, smacked another spot on the wall. The fireplace pivoted and she stepped through the opening, leaving us alone.

“Well,
that
was interesting,” said Jacob. “Ready?”

“Ready!”

We put our feet on the treadle and started to pump, my feet rising when Jacob pushed down, his rising when I took my turn. Toozle's legs were too short to help.

The cart moved heavily at first, but within a couple of passes the motion became smooth and fairly easy. Pretty soon we were rolling along at a good clip. Little Dumpling began to laugh. It was nice to hear, even though a baby's laughter sounded eerie in the dark tunnel.

After a moment I realized that the track was curved, so we were circling up through the inside of the hill as if climbing a giant corkscrew.

The walls were whizzing by pretty fast. Even so, I sometimes caught sight of an opening, and more than once spotted a creature sitting inside. I felt a pang of terror when I saw that one cave had a pile of bones in front of it. Flenzbort had acted friendly enough when she saw us off, but what if she resented Jacob solving her puzzle? I hoped she wasn't sending us to be dinner for some monster friend of hers.

When I said something about this, Jake replied, “If so, does that make us Meals on Wheels?”

Despite the joke, or maybe because of it, we pumped faster … which might have been a mistake, because a few minutes later we were both panting for breath.

“I need to take a rest,” I said.

“Me, too,” gasped Jake. “I think it will be all right as long as we don't stop beside a cave.” Then he pulled the brake sharply toward him.

Little Dumpling climbed into Jacob's lap. Toozle moaned softly, a sound that echoed eerily through the tunnel. I wondered why he moaned, then realized he was still suffering from the loss of his other half, just as I still ached from the loss of my grandfather.

I was beginning to have an idea about what I might do about Grampa, but I wasn't ready to say anything yet.

After several minutes Jake said, “Ready?”

I nodded. We returned our feet to the treadle, he released the brake, and we began to pump. Within minutes we came to a level spot, then bumped into a vertical pad that clearly indicated we had reached the end of the line.

“Guess the ride is over,” said Jake.

He reset the brake and we climbed out.

“Let's not send Old Betsy back down until we see if there's a way out of here,” I said.

“Right there!” responded Toozle, pointing.

It took me a second to spot what he meant. Then I saw it: a ladder that led through an opening in the rocky ceiling.

“Toozle, would you climb up and make sure we can get out that way?” asked Jake.

Without a word the little monster scrambled up the ladder. A few seconds later he stuck his head down through the opening and said, “Door at the top. It opens out.”

Jake scowled. “I can't climb that ladder holding LD. Help me strap him on again?”

He lifted his shirt and unwound Octavia's webbing. Working quickly, I wrapped it around Jake and the baby until LD was securely in place.

Jacob turned, released the brake, gave Old Betsy a push. The cart rolled away, taking our only source of light with it. Moving carefully through the dark, we made our way to the ladder. Luna batted my leg and said, “Let me ride on your shoulder. I don't like ladders.”

I lifted her, relishing the feel of her silky fur, and placed her on my shoulder. It wasn't far to the top, and we emerged through a trapdoor into a small shed. Toozle had the shed door open for us. Enough moonlight came through for us to see that it opened onto the surface world.

We stepped out. Ahead of us stood Cliff House. Heavy clouds loomed above it. A bolt of lightning sizzled through the sky.

Jacob reached over and took my hand. “We made it, Lily.”

I don't think he was being romantic. It was just that we had worked so hard to get here, come through so much, lost so much, that it was overwhelming to finally stand in front of the place.

It was, in a way, the house of my favorite nightmares … a huge, hulking mansion with towers and arched windows, circled by a moat whose dark water glistened in the moonlight. Bats fluttered and swooped around the towers. Behind the towers floated the full moon, its glowing disk split by the spire of the tallest tower, which rose directly in front of it.

Jake turned his back to me. “Unstrap LD, please?”

Once again I unwound the webbing that bound LD to Jake's back. Still focused on the mansion, I stuffed it into my pocket. It was amazing how light it was, and how easily I could fit it all in.

It was maybe fifty yards to the door of Cliff House. Though I felt enormous relief to have finally arrived here, looking at the space we had yet to cross suddenly filled me with fear.

“Jake,” I whispered, “this will be Mazrak's last chance to get his hands on LD. He might not be anywhere near us. Even so, I think we'd better make a run for it.”

Jake's eyes widened; then he nodded.

“Girl smart,” said Toozle approvingly.

“On a count of three?” I asked.

Jake nodded again, I counted to three, and we sprinted across the open space.

There was no attack.

Gasping for breath, we reached the door, which was at least twice my height. Torches were mounted on either side. By their light we saw that a cord dangled along the left-hand side. Jake reached out and pulled it. From inside came the bong of an enormous bell.

I continued to check behind us for any sign of Mazrak. Finally we heard a shuffling from inside. A moment later the door creaked open to reveal a hunchbacked man dressed in dark rags. His long black hair hung loose around his shoulders. One eye was large and penetrating, the other swollen shut. In a gruff voice he said, “Ah, you must be the human children who have been the cause of so much uproar. Glad you have arrived. Enter and be welcome.”

Jake and I glanced at each other and smiled. With Luna and Toozle walking beside us, we stepped inside.

“We made it,” said Jake.

I heaved a sigh of relief.

“My name is Affenheimer Sesselbach,” said the man. “However, you may call me Igor.”

“Why?” asked Jake.

“Because the one who has my position is always called Igor. My cousin Quasimodo is in the bell tower.”

“Really?” I asked eagerly.

“No, but I've found it pleases visitors when I tell them that. Most just accept it. You're one of the few who's ever asked if I was telling the truth. Now walk this way,” he said, turning and shuffling through the enormous entryway.

With that invitation it was all I could do to keep from imitating the way he tilted to the side and dragged one leg behind him.

“Where are you taking us?” asked Jacob.

“The Master Librarian has been expecting you.”

We passed through a maze of halls, coming at last to one that ended at a huge wooden door carved with screaming faces. Without knocking, our guide turned the enormous knob and pushed the door open.

The room was vast and wonderful, lined with shelves and shelves of thick old books that seemed to radiate mystery. In the center of the room was a large pedestal, the kind of thing that usually holds a dictionary.

In front of it, his back to us, stood a man.

Igor cleared his throat. “The visitors have arrived, master.”

The Librarian turned to face us.

I
had never met my grandfather, but from family albums, from the portrait in the hall, from countless book jackets, I knew very well that was who now stood before me. The high, bald head; the hawklike nose; and the piercing dark eyes were unmistakable.

“Ah!” said my grandfather, striding toward us. “Flenzbort alerted me you were on your way. I'm deeply impressed that you made it here on your own. Well done!”

Lily stared at him, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging open.

I stared too. I can't say how I looked, because I truly did not know what I felt. Part of me was thrilled and astonished. Another part felt a surge of fury that this man could be so cheerful and so casual about seeing me, his grandson, given the way he had abandoned my father.

Then I realized that LD was
also
his grandson, which made everything that much weirder.

My grandfather stopped about four feet in front of us, clearly registering my expression.

With a thousand thoughts racing through my mind, it was hard to settle on just one, but finally a single word forced its way past my lips, a word that condensed all those feelings and thoughts into one burning question.

“Why?”

He knew what I meant, of course; I could see it in his eyes. Why had he abandoned his family to come to Always October? Why had he done something that had so wounded my own father? Why … well, why
everything
about our crazy, messed up family?

My grandfather closed his eyes. “Jacob, if I could explain to you the workings of the human heart, of my heart, any heart, I would be more than happy to do so. Of course, if I could truly do that, I would have been even more successful as a writer than I was. But as the philosopher Pascal wrote, ‘The heart has reasons of which reason knows not.' Love drew me here, even when other loves should have held me at home. When love wars with love, no one really wins, least of all the heart where the battle takes place.”

If he wanted me to feel sorry for him, he had a long way to go.

“Some people think duty is as important as love,” I said coldly, quoting a line from one of his own stories.

He winced. “Maybe you shall be a writer, too, grandson. You certainly know how to wound with a word, which is one of the prerequisites. Still, the shot is well taken. I could have stayed in Humana, spent my days there being nearly content. But it was not simply my love for Teelamun that drew me to Always October when she reached out to me. It was my sense that somehow this place is my true home, the world where I was meant to be, as if being born in Humana had been some kind of mistake.”