The Emerald Atlas (24 page)

Hamish looked about to argue, but then he saw how Kate was trembling and waved his hand. Wallace pulled out flint and a piece of black wood and somehow, in moments, had a fire going. Michael had Kate move close to the flames.

“Drink this.” Wallace held out a leather flask.

Kate took a sip and nearly gagged, but immediately a warmth spread through her body. The shaking stopped. Her fingers returned to their normal color.

“You too,” Wallace said to Michael.

“What is it?”

“Whiskey. Me ma’s own special mash. She always said it could bring back the dead.”

It did not take Hamish’s dwarves long to find the hidden doorway. There was a cry, and Kate saw the dwarves clustered at a spot along the golden wall, staring down a tunnel that had not been there moments before.

“Now that’s more like it.” The dwarf king was beaming. He snapped his fingers at Kate and Michael, who were still huddled around the small fire. “Right. This ain’t a picnic. Let’s go get me book.”

Fifty yards down the passage, the band came to a door. Kate’s first thought was that they’d made a mistake. This was not the door to a secret vault. It was more like the door to someone’s bedroom. Painted white wood with a brass handle. There was even a small plaque in the center that read PRIVATE.

Kate thought the plaque had to be someone’s idea of a joke.

Hamish grasped the handle and pulled.

The door didn’t budge.

He braced his foot against the rock wall and pulled again.

Nothing.

“Dr. Pym said it would only open—” Michael began.

“Shut it, you!” Hamish snapped. He ordered a pair of his dwarf guards to take hold of him, and together the three of them strained against the door till Hamish’s hands slipped off the knob and they fell to the ground in a grunting pile. Hamish leapt up, searching for anyone who might be laughing.

The dwarves were stone-faced.

“You there”—Hamish pointed at the one dwarf who’d carried his ax through the tunnel—“ ’ave a chop at it.”

“I doubt it’s actually wood,” Michael said. “An ax won’t—”

“Oi! You want a great bloody sock in the mouth? Then shut your bleedin’ piehole! Now ’ave at it!”

Kate and Michael stepped back as the dwarf raised his ax, took two running steps, and swung with all his might. There was a clang, the sound of shattering metal, and something flew backward. The something was the dwarf; he lay stunned upon the ground, his ax in pieces beside him. The door did not have a mark on it.

“Right,” Hamish said, “had to try. Guess here’s where we see if it was worth bringing you kiddies along. Come on, we’re not getting any younger.”

“I’ll do it,” Kate said. She was thinking the door might be booby-trapped, and if so, she didn’t want Michael getting hurt.

But as she stepped forward, Kate found herself wishing more than anything that the door would not open. If it didn’t open, she and Michael and Emma were not special. They were just three ordinary children and everyone would see that and let them go.

She reached out and took hold of the brass knob. Please, she thought.

There was a soft click, and the door swung open.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Inside the Vault

The first thing Kate felt—as the door opened, revealing a high-ceilinged room lit by crystals in the walls, and there in the center, sitting on a stone pedestal as if it had been waiting for her, the book, their book—the very first thing she felt was that after everything that had happened in the last few days, this—the fact the vault door had opened for her and no one else—was the worst turn yet.

We’re in deep trouble, she thought.

Hamish knocked her to the ground as he rushed past.

“No!”

Hamish’s fingers paused inches from the book’s leather cover. He turned to Kate, who was being helped to her feet by Michael and the black-bearded Wallace.

“No?!”

“You can’t touch it.”

“Oh, I can’t, can’t I? Well, just you watch, missy—”

“You’ll die.”

Kate saw Michael glance at her. She had no idea what she was saying. All she knew was that Hamish couldn’t touch the book first. Dr. Pym had said so.

“You’re lying,” the dwarf king sneered.

“Michael and I are the only ones who can pick it up. Dr. Pym told me. But go on if you don’t believe me. See what happens. Except you won’t, ’cause, you know, you’ll be dead. But go ahead.” She crossed her arms and tried to look unconcerned.

Hamish turned from Kate to the book, back to Kate, then back to the book. It was obvious he wanted it very badly. But finally he muttered something under his breath, spat, and then snapped his fingers angrily. A dwarf grabbed Kate by the arm and dragged her forward. Hamish leaned in, his breath warm and rotten in her face. “If you’re playing with me, girl, you and your brother are dead, understand? I’ll cut your throats and feed you to that monster in the pool. Now—bring me that book!”

Propelled by Hamish’s shove, Kate stumbled to a halt a foot from the pedestal. The book appeared to be glowing, the light in the vault enhancing its natural emerald hue. It was then—standing above the book with nothing and no one between it and her—that she finally heard it.

The book was speaking to her. It told her it had been waiting for her for a thousand years. It told her to claim it as her own.

She reached out and lifted it off the pedestal.

Now what? she thought.

She felt a tug in her stomach, and the floor disappeared beneath her feet.

“Hello.”

Kate blinked. She was in a study, books and manuscripts in piles everywhere, a small fire crackling in the grate. Outside the window, she could see the tops of cars passing in the street below. Snow was falling, muffling the sounds of the city. But what truly caught her attention was the man sitting three feet away: he was swiveled toward her in his chair, a paper- and book-strewn desk behind him, dressed in his habitual and habitually rumpled tweed suit, pipe in one hand and a teacup halfway to his mouth as if he had been in the act of taking a sip when Kate had stepped out of thin air. Naturally, he was smiling.

“Can I help you?” Dr. Pym said.

For a moment, Kate could only stand and stare, trying and failing to grasp what had happened.

“Dr. Pym—” she began, then stopped, remembering her mistake in the dungeon the night before, when it turned out he hadn’t the foggiest notion who she was. “Do you—do you know who I am?”

“Of course,” he replied amiably. “You’re the young lady who just appeared in my study.”

Her heart sank. She had traveled even further into the past, back to a time before their meeting in the prison. And not just into the past—to another place. As she looked out the window, seeing the cars, a lamppost, everything that suggested a normal human city, it was obvious she was somewhere very far from Cambridge Falls. How was any of this possible? She hadn’t placed a photograph in the book. She hadn’t even opened it!

“My dear,” the old man said, interrupting her thoughts and pointing with the end of his pipe at the book, “is that what I think it is?”

“Yes—but why did it bring me here? All I did was touch it!”

“Did you now? Fascinating.”

“I picked it up before Hamish could! Just like you told me to!” She knew he wouldn’t understand what she was saying, but she couldn’t help herself. It was all pouring out.

“Hamish? Is that oaf involved in this?”

“Wait! You must’ve known what was going to happen! That’s why you told me to touch the book first!”

“I did? Can’t say as I remember—”

“No, not now! In the future! But how would you know the book would take me here? Unless …” Kate could feel the answer tugging at her, that she just had to keep talking. “You must’ve done something! Back in the dwarf throne room! When you told me to make sure I touched the book first! You put your hand on my head and I felt this tingling. You must’ve done some spell to make the book bring me here!”

Dr. Pym leaned back in his chair, placed his teacup on a messy stack of papers, stuck his pipe in his mouth, and proceeded to pat himself down for matches. “I think you had best tell me everything. But first”—his pipe lit, he shook out the match, then reached forward—“why don’t you give me that? I suspect the type of magic that brought you here is somewhat unstable, and I don’t want you popping off.”

“But what if the book disappears and I can’t get back? It must already exist, right? In this time?”

“Ah. I take it the book has disappeared once before?”

“Yes.”

“And this other instance, how much time passed before it vanished?”

Kate thought back. She and Emma had gone into the past, found Michael, been captured by the Secretary and dragged to that strange fantasy ball, then had been forced to sit on the patio talking to the Countess.…

“Half an hour. About.”

“So we have a bit of a window. Come, come.”

He held out his hands, and Kate relinquished the book. Dr. Pym placed it on the desk behind him.

“Now,” he said, “from the beginning.”

Kate stamped her foot in anger. “No! I’ve already told you twice; you just don’t remember because it hasn’t happened yet!”

“Well, that hardly seems my fault.”

“But there’s no time! Hamish is going to have his dwarves kill us if we—”

“My dear, why do you keep mentioning Hamish? That scoundrel would never have the authority to kill anyone.”

“But he’s king of the dwarves!”

Dr. Pym chuckled. “No, no. I’m afraid that simply couldn’t be. I am close friends with the present queen. Esmerelda, lovely woman. And she agrees with me that Hamish would make a disastrous king. Robbie is to assume the throne.”

“But she died without a will!” Kate could hear herself shouting. “And because Hamish was older, he got to be king! And he wants the book! He’s in the vault right now with Michael! Well, not now-now, future-now!” She knew she wasn’t making much sense. She wanted to pick up something and throw it at the wizard to make him understand. “And you can’t do anything because you’re still locked in the dungeon back in the dwarf city!”

“Oh, that is bad,” Dr. Pym said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Very bad indeed. But I’m afraid I still don’t understand. How could Hamish get into the vault? It’s quite impossible without …” He stopped and gazed at Kate. His voice became very soft. “You. You opened the vault.”

Kate nodded.

He leaned forward. “You say you have a brother?”

“And a sister! Michael and Emma! And they’re both in trouble! You have to do something.” Kate could feel her eyes welling with tears.

“Oh dear,” Dr. Pym said quietly. “I’m afraid now I must insist you do tell me everything. From the beginning.”

“Stanislaus?” It was a woman’s voice. Kate turned, listening to footsteps approaching down a hall, the voice getting closer. “Richard’s stuck at the college. I think we should just go ahead and have lunch, don’t you? And who are you talking to?”

The door opened and a young woman entered. She was wearing jeans and a gray sweater. She had dark blond hair, hazel eyes, and a kind face. She was casually beautiful. The moment Kate saw her, two things happened. First, she realized the woman she was looking at was her mother. Second, the floor disappeared beneath her feet.

“WHERE IS IT?!”

Kate stood at the pedestal, bathed in greenish light, gasping, her heart hammering in her chest. Before she could begin to process what had happened, she was seized by the arm and yanked around.

“Where is it?”

Her face was sprayed with spittle. She was dimly aware of being shaken violently. The book. That’s what he was yelling about. The book was gone. But so what? She had seen her mother.

“You tricked me! You and that wizard!”

 … Her mother. She had seen her mother.

“I’ll kill you!”

Kate saw something flash in Hamish’s hand, then heard footsteps behind her, and she was wrenched out of his grip and thrown to the ground. She could hear Wallace arguing with the King that they might need Kate to get the book back; they had to bring her to the wizard. She knew he was saving her life.

“Are you okay?” Michael was kneeling beside her. “You disappeared, then you came back, but the book was gone. What happened?”

Kate gripped her brother’s hand. “I saw—”

There was the sound of a blow, and Wallace staggered back. Hamish was breathing loudly through his beard, one hand grasping his knife, the other curled into a meaty fist. For a moment, the dwarf king glared at Kate, then he sheathed his knife and barked, “Bring ’em! But if that wizard don’t get me book back, they all die! The old man and the brats!” And he turned and stalked out of the chamber.

A dwarf grabbed Michael by the collar and dragged him into the tunnel. She hadn’t been able to tell him. Another dwarf approached Kate, but Wallace waved him off. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and guided her toward the door.

“You all right, then?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” Kate replied, her mouth dry. “Thank you.”

Walking down the dark tunnel, Kate replayed the memory of her mother entering the room. She wanted to lock in the details before they had a chance to fade. She saw her mother’s blond hair and hazel eyes, her face, intelligent, gentle, surprised at finding this girl standing before her. Richard! That was the name her mother had said. That had to be their father. Kate marveled at how seemingly so little—a voice in a hall, a name, a woman walking through a door—could mean so much.

But (and here Kate felt herself growing angry) why hadn’t Dr. Pym told them he knew their parents? Why would he keep that secret? Could he find them now? And how was it that simply touching the book had sent her into the past? For that matter, how had she come back with no book at all? Her head spun with questions. Kate forced herself to stay calm. She had seen her mother. For now, that was enough.

The party arrived in the golden cavern and clustered around the pool. The dwarves stared at the dark water nervously. Kate could tell Michael was burning to talk to her, but the guard held him back.

Hamish was ranting about the things he was going to do to Dr. Pym. “I’ll rip ’is bleeding spine out! I’ll make ’im eat his own foot!” And, still ranting, he pushed the first dwarf into the pool.

The monster did not reappear, and the journey back through the trench was uneventful. As she swam, Kate could see the twin lights of Michael and his guard ahead, and the few times she looked back, Wallace was there, knife gripped in his hand, staring into the darkness below, ready to protect her in case of attack. But nothing happened.

Then her head broke the surface of the pool, and she sucked in the stale cave air and heard a voice that froze her heart.

“Ah, there she is.”

Cold hands lifted her up. As the water cleared her eyes, she saw that all the dwarves, including old white-bearded Fergus, were on their knees, hands bound behind their backs. A dozen black-clad figures, brandishing swords and crossbows, stood guard over them. One of the Screechers held Michael by the shoulders. He looked frightened but unharmed.

Kate’s eyes went to the speaker, who was moving toward her, giggling and rubbing his hands.

“My dear, my dear,” cooed the Secretary, smiling his gray-toothed smile, “how very nice to see you again.”