Green Rider (11 page)

The words echoed in Karigan's mind as she followed Miss Bunchberry and the glow of the oil lamp up the stairs to the second story. Weren't Miss Bayberry's words much like what Arms Master Rendle had told her one evening after sword practice, as she repaired fighting gear at the field house? "Do not make the mistake you made with Timas, lass," he had said, pipe smoke curling above his head and up to the rafters of the field house. "Never assume the enemy is down and then turn your back on him. You will pay for it with your life."

In other words, expect others to play dirty. Miss Bayberry's words, and Arms Master Rendle's, hung heavy with her, but every time she thought of Timas as "Titmouse," she was reduced to giggles.

"This is the east gable guestroom," Miss Bunchberry said. "You will see the sunrise from here and the morning sun will fill your room with warmth." She lit another lamp for Karigan's use. "Letitia has aired the place out and put fresh water in the pitcher next to the wash basin. She will draw a hot bath for you in the morning, as well."

"If I could see your Letitia, I'd thank her for her delicious cooking and all the details she has seen to." Karigan thought it rather odd she had seen no signs of servants, especially the often talked about Letitia.

"We will pass your praise on to her—if she hasn't heard already. Now—

Karigan put a hand on Miss Bunch's wrist before she could go on. "Why can't I meet Letitia?"

Miss Bunch brushed a gray curl from her face and looked at Karigan in surprise. "You want to know why… why you can't meet Letitia? Isn't knowing that she is here to serve enough?"

"No. In my clan, the servants are practically part of the family. It only seems fair to thank Letitia in person."

Miss Bunch clucked her tongue. "Dear, dear," she muttered. But when she saw Karigan's look of resolve, she said, "We are not fond of relating painful stories, child, especially when one's father is at fault. It was an accident."

"An accident?" Karigan's brows drew together in a perplexed line. "What was an accident?"

Miss Bunch's eyes shifted and she plucked nervously at the hem of her apron. "Letitia's invisibility was an accident. Oh, dear." Miss Bunch drooped into a chair as if overcome.

Karigan's mouth hung open aghast. "Invisible?"

"Very invisible. Far beyond what you are able to attain with your brooch, child. Completely, irreversibly, transparently invisible. She is more akin to an energy, or a ghostly presence, for we cannot hear her either. But we know she's there, for the house is tidied when neither my sister nor I have lifted a hand, our meals are prepared for us, and so on. We know when she is less than happy, for she starts sweeping up a tumult like a great dusty tempest. And it's not just Letitia."

"Not just… Letitia?" Karigan looked all around her, wondering how many invisible servants might be in her room this very minute. It made her skin crawl.

"Well, there's Rolph the stableboy, and Farnham the groundskeeper, too."

"And you said they are invisible by accident?"

Miss Bunch nodded mournfully. "Indeed, child. You see, Letitia was forever nagging Father. He tired of her pointing out the mud he tracked in from the garden, or the coating of magic dust he left in the library which she had to wipe up. He was consumed by his scholarship, and scraping off candle wax from tabletops, or leaving papers in orderly piles were not foremost in his mind.

"One day, as Father was in the library hard at work studying some form of magic or another, Letitia stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips.
At it again, eh Professor
? she said.
A spill of that vile liquid in yon beaker will ruin the finish of your fine table and then where would we be? And after Herschel refinished it for you last month
."

"Uh, who's Herschel?" Karigan asked.

"Herschel was our handyman. Was with the family for a hundred years, it seems. We believe he has passed on… Things break now and then, and no one fixes them." Miss Bunch emitted a sad sigh. "If he were lying dead somewhere, there was no way for us to see him." She paused for a few moments, then continued her story. "Letitia nagged at Father until he commanded her to silence.
I need quiet, woman
, he said,
not your endless nattering
."

"Letitia is not one to just sit quietly while the chaos of clutter, dust, and bubbling fluids threaten to overwhelm her sense of domestic orderliness, but she had pressed him too far this time.
Sir
, she said, waving her dust rag in emphasis like a law reader about to present some crucial evidence to an arbiter,
may I remind you that you threaten the sanitary concerns of this household, and you with two little daughters under your roof
? She followed up that reproof with a
tsk, tsk, tsk
. And that's when it happened."

"It?" Karigan asked.

Miss Bunch fanned her face with her hand. "Yes, it. She
tsked
one too many times, and Father lost his patience. Remember now, their run-ins had been going on for a very long time, and the tension between them both had built up over the years. Father shouted,
Servants should not be seen or heard
! Well, that did it! We haven't seen or heard any of the servants ever since. Not one of them. But we know they're there."

"Wait." Karigan held up her hand. "Your father said that servants should not be seen or heard, and Letitia and the others just disappeared?"

"Well, no, child. Dear me, but I don't tell stories as well as Bay. I left out one crucial fact. The 'vile' liquid Letitia feared that would ruin the finish of Father's table was volatile with spells. The spells responded to his command unequivocally. He could not countermand it."

Karigan was aghast. "And the servants stayed with you even after your father… turned them invisible? Weren't they angry?"

"Of course they were upset, child. And terribly so. But they stayed in hopes that Father would find another spell to reverse the curse. He searched to exhaustion and illness to find one, and never stopped until he died. He was terribly remorseful, and I think the servants knew it. And yes, they stay on with us. Where else can they find positions, invisible as they are?"

"And so, that's it?" Karigan said. "Letitia and the rest will be invisible to the end of their days?"

Miss Bunch nodded with a solemn expression on her face. "We try to treat them as well as possible, and continue Father's search for a cure. We have picked up a thing or two about magic along the way, but so far nothing that will help the servants. Alas, there may not be an answer."

Karigan had no response this time, and Miss Bunch pulled herself out of the chair and patted her on the shoulder. "As I said, it is a painful story, one that we will never be free of. In the meantime, we go on as we must, and," she added in a whisper, "we take care about what we say about whom. You never know who is listening in!"

Miss Bunch moved to the doorway. "If you need anything, just call. I sleep down the hall. Bay can't negotiate the stairs very well lately, poor dear, so she has taken a back room downstairs. Sleep well. Breakfast will be served when
you
wake."

Karigan was left alone in the room which, like all the others in the house, was well-appointed. A porcelain pitcher and bowl stood on a wash stand. The heavy bureau, carved intricately with pine boughs and cones, was draped with hand-embroidered linens. A huge cedar chest, full of coarse wool blankets, sat at the foot of the bed. A pieced quilt with a diamond-shaped motif flared like a starburst.

She looked in satisfaction at her clean clothes neatly folded on the edge of the bed. She took the winged horse brooch from her robe pocket and pinned it to the lapel of the now spotless greatcoat.

She checked the greatcoat for the love letter and found it intact and undamaged. Miraculously, or perhaps meticulously, the vigilant Letitia had removed it during the cleaning process, and replaced it after. The message satchel, too, had been placed on the bed. She hadn't dared to open the leather case before, and though she felt the sisters could be trusted, she did so now. Inside was an envelope sealed with the wax imprint of a winged horse. All items accounted for, she could now sleep in peace.

But then she caught sight of herself in the dresser mirror. Her image was like a ghost flowing by, her long white nightgown billowing behind her gauzy and luminous. She backed a few steps to gaze in the mirror. She found herself mostly unchanged from her travels, if a little thinner in the cheeks.

There was a blemish beneath her left eye. She leaned toward the silver glass for a closer look. It wasn't a blemish exactly, but a reddened crescent-shaped scratch just above the cheekbone, and just below her eye.

She remembered the image of Immerez through the telescope, and the feel of his cold, metal hook against her cheek. She touched trembling fingers to the mark, and turned away from the mirror. It was coincidence and nothing more. She could have gotten the scratch from thrashing through the underbrush, or from her own fingernail. She could have gotten it from anywhere.

Exhaustion was leading her to strange fancies, and she delayed going to bed no more. The bed was like the one her grandmother had used. It was so high that a stool was stashed beneath to help one climb into it. Karigan sank into the down mattress and clutched the blankets about her.

It was hard to believe she had been with the sisters for only a day.

This afternoon, she had been asleep on a patch of moss, not even sure how she had gotten there. Tonight, she lay in true luxury between crisp, cool sheets smelling as fresh as if they'd just been pulled off the line. She blew out the lamp on the nightstand and sighed in satisfaction. It had been a strange day, but there was nothing extraordinary about this gabled room or the comfortable featherbed.

Karigan nestled under the covers. The house was draped in silence, but outside peepers cheeped in their springtime chant. The last sound she heard as she drifted into a heavy slumber, was the
hoo-hoo-hooing
of an owl on a tree below her window.

In the morning, The Horse waited outside for Karigan. She had awakened to the warm glow of the rising sun, as Miss Bunchberry had promised she would, certain that she had slept hours upon hours. Yet, the sun was still low when she finally roused herself. Even when she took her time bathing, and breakfasting on the elusive Letitia's cooking, the morning advanced very little. Time seemed… well, flexible at Seven Chimneys. She had slept in and taken her time in every endeavor, and yet, she was still getting on with her travels bright and early.

The Horse was tacked, the saddlebags bulging to capacity. His chestnut coat glowed in the sun—someone, probably the invisible Rolph, had given him a bath and thorough brushing, and he looked handsome despite his gangly shape. Karigan gave him a companionable slap on the neck.

"Before you go, child," Miss Bayberry said from the front step, "we've a few things for you."

Karigan glanced at the bulging saddlebags and felt the extra weight in her pack. "You've already given me so much—all the food and a change of clothes…"

"Nonsense, child. Those are just provisions. You have a little growing to do, and Bunch and I are concerned about your proper nourishment. We would like to give you some gifts. Very simple gifts." She held forth a tiny sprig with dark green leaves. "My namesake, bayberry. When you find resolve failing you, when hope is lost, or you miss the deep scents of wild places, take a leaf and rub it between your fingers. The scent will refresh you, and perhaps you will think of me."