The World Above (9 page)

“It doesn’t,” I said. “You’re absolutely right.”

Shannon and I fell into step again. We continued in silence for several moments.

“Do you know that you’re the first, the only, person who’s ever understood that?” I asked finally. “Don’t you think that’s ironic?. The only person to understand why I never really believed in the World Above is the first person I meet once I get there. So, for the record, I think I like you, too.”

Shannon smiled. “That’s a pretty good sign. And now we know two things we have in common.”

“What’s the other one?”

“Being practical,” Shannon replied.

We reached the span of a stone bridge, long but so narrow the two of us brushed shoulders as we continued to walk side by side. Beneath us was a deep, wide expanse. Ahead of us was a great building cut from the same stone as the bridge, a somber, cloudy-day gray. But every now and then, as the sun glanced off it, I thought I caught glimpses of different colors running through it. Amber. Silver. Gold. Its towers seemed imposing yet somehow graceful at the same time.

This is it
, I thought. This castle had been my parents’ home, the one my mother had come to as a bride. The one she’d left to confirm her dearest hope, only to be kept away by Guy de Trabant’s coup sixteen years ago.

Oh, Mama! How I wish that you could be here! I swear to you I’ll find the way soon
, I thought.

“Speaking of practical,” I said when I’d finally found my voice, “I assume this bridge is narrow to help keep invaders at bay.”

“It is,” Shannon said, nodding. I caught the way she turned her head to look at me. I was pretty sure I knew what we were both thinking. In the end, the bridge hadn’t done any good. The “invader” who had robbed my father of both his kingdom and his life had had no need to cross it. He was already inside.

“We’re crossing what used to be the moat,” Shannon went on. “After Guy de Trabant abandoned the castle, the water dried up. I don’t know why, but it’s turned out all right. The moat bed has some of the best soil in the country.”

“So you turned it into a garden,” I said, suddenly delighted. I stopped, leaning out to gaze over the side.

“Gardens,” Shannon corrected. Now that I had stopped to look closely, I could see that she was right. The moat bed was filled with individual garden plots. Even when they looked to be growing precisely the same things, each was still slightly different from the one beside it. A woman with a bright kerchief on her head looked up and waved. I waved back.

“It looks like a patchwork quilt,” I said.

Shannon smiled. “We started by giving everyone in the closest village a plot,” she explained, “then expanded to other villages when we discovered we had room enough. When you add what’s grown here to what I raise on the castle grounds and what people grow on their own lands, nobody goes hungry. We pool our resources.”

“It’s a fine idea,” I said. “And a fine piece of work. You should be proud.” Shannon remained silent, her eyes focused on some point in the distance.

“But it’s not the same, is it?” I asked quietly. “It’s not the same as being a famous giant. It’s not the same as traveling through the countryside being hailed as a hero.”

“Not a hero—not exactly,” Shannon said quickly. “And that’s not why Sean does it, nor Papa before him.”

“No,” I said. “Of course not. Still, you’re the one in your family who’s different, aren’t you? Just like I’m the one who’s different in mine.”

“It’s silly, really.” Shannon shrugged. “I mean, it’s not as if I actually
want
to be a giant. Do you have any idea what it takes to make a set of Sean’s clothes?”

“No, but I’ll bet you do, right down to how many stitches it takes to set in a sleeve or mend a hole in his trousers.”

Shannon gave a snort. “It depends on the size of the hole, though as a general rule, think large.”

I smiled. “Jack’s holes might not be so big, but I bet there were more of them. He got into every kind of scrape imaginable as a boy. Nothing Mama ever said could convince him not to fill his clothes quite so full of holes. Sometimes she couldn’t even figure out how they’d got there.”

Shannon matched my smile with one of her own. But I saw the way her hands gripped the top of the stone wall until her knuckles turned white. I saw the way the edges of her lips quivered even as she turned them up.

“I bet neither of us would complain about mending again,” she said, “if only Sean and Jack would come home.”

“We’re going to find them,” I said, reaching to cover one of her hands with mine. “We’re going to find a way, you and I. That’s why you send the practical ones in last, the ones who don’t care about having an adventure.”

I gave her fingers a squeeze, and then let go. “But first I need a nap and something to eat. I hate to sound like a wimp, but I’m exhausted.”

“Of course you’re tired,” Shannon said. “You just climbed a magic beanstalk.”

“I did, didn’t I?” I said. I gazed over the side of the stone bridge, out into the World Above.

Was the green here more vivid, or was that just my imagination? Was the air filled with sweeter smells? I tilted my head back to watch a flock of birds as it wheeled across the sky. They were of no kind I recognized.

“I really, really did. I’m still not quite sure how.”

“You climbed the beanstalk the same way you do everything else,” Shannon said simply.

“By doing it,” I replied.

This time she laughed, the sound pure and high. Above our heads, I heard one of the birds call, as if in answer. I felt my heart lift, rising to join the sound.

“Okay, now I
really
like you,” Shannon said. And I knew it was because I’d given the same answer she would have herself.

“I’m really glad to hear it,” I answered.

Side by side we entered the great stone castle. With enough practice, I thought I just might be able to make it feel like coming home.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” I said some time later. Shannon and I were seated at the wide trestle table in the castle’s sunny kitchen. Above our heads, herbs hung upside down to dry on a rack suspended from the ceiling. They gave the room a pungent yet homey smell.

Like Jack, climbing a beanstalk had given me a healthy appetite. The remains of the meal Shannon and I had, including the best bread I’d ever tasted, lay on the table before us.

“What do you want to know?” Shannon asked now.

“Why did you help Jack in the first place?” I asked. “I mean, aside from the—” Suddenly afraid I might give offense, I broke off.

“I think the word you’re afraid to say is ‘obvious,’” Shannon said with a chuckle.

“I’m sorry. It’s really none of my business how you and Jack feel about each other. But he was pretty clear about his feelings for you. What does it feel like to fall in love so suddenly?”

Shannon made a wry face. “Sort of like falling down a hole. The ground beneath you disappears without warning, and your stomach goes right up into your throat.”

“I don’t think I’ll try it,” I teased. “It doesn’t sound all that pleasant.”

“It’s not so bad,” Shannon said. We smiled at each other. “But we both digress. What was it you really wanted to know?”

“Why you and Sean helped Jack,” I replied. “You pretty much had to take him on faith. He had no real way of proving he was who he said he was.”

“As a matter of fact, he did,” Shannon countered. She got to her feet. “He just didn’t know it. Sean and I weren’t sure if we should show him this. He had such stars in his eyes about the World Above. But I think it’s safe to show you. Come on.”

With Shannon in the lead, we left the kitchen and made our way through a wide passage that connected to the main part of the house.
What must this have been like when my parents lived here?
I wondered. Men and women dressed in their finest to attend a state banquet or a ball. Servants bustling back and forth, staggering under the weight of trays laden with food and drink. The rooms through which I walked were cold and silent now. But once they would have been filled with the sounds of laughter, the whispers of court intrigue. They had been filled with life.

“My mother never talks about her life here,” I murmured. “Except for the bedtime stories she used to tell us.”
And I never asked her about it
, I thought.

“Is that so surprising?” Shannon asked. We ascended a flight of stairs, our feet slapping softly against the stones. “Everyone talks about how happy the duke and duchess were, even after all this time. There are still old folks who can remember your parents’ wedding. They tell the stories with tears in their eyes, not just out of sorrow, but also out of joy. Maybe your mother’s memories make her feel both things at once too.”

“Perhaps they do,” I acknowledged quietly. Why had I not considered this possibility before?
How could you have, Gen?
I thought.
You never truly believed in the World Above
.

“I think my mother’s always felt a little guilty,” I went on slowly, as if feeling my way along. “Guilty that she wasn’t here that night. Though if she had been, it’s likely she’d have been killed as well. And Jack and me too, of course.”

“So you see her problem,” Shannon said with a nod.

“I believe I do,” I said.

“This way,” Shannon said. “It’s not much farther now.” She gestured at the space around us. “This is the old great hall.”

I gave a quick laugh in spite of myself. “I should think so.”

A huge vaulted stone ceiling soared above our heads. Cut-glass windows cast a pattern of rainbows onto the floor. There was a broad central stair and narrower hallways leading I-had-no-idea-where on either side.

“It was old Bertrand, the stable master, who found this,” Shannon explained. She opened the first door along the passage and went into the room beyond. I followed.

“He said it was buried under a pile of hay in one of the stalls. Many of the duke’s servants were still living when we first came here, and they were slow to trust us. To this day, no one has come forward to claim saving what I’m about to show you. Please wait here, by the door.”

Obeying her instructions, I paused while Shannon entered the room. From where I stood, I could see it was filled with what I assumed were pieces of furniture swathed in muslin. Shannon walked to the far side of the room and turned an object around. Then she drew aside the piece of muslin and stepped away.

I caught my breath. It was a painting of a man and woman.

Mama!
I thought.

For the young woman in the painting could be no one but my mother. There was her long, golden hair and her cornflower blue eyes. And there were the dimples in her cheeks as she smiled up at the man at her side.

Duke Roland
, I thought as I gazed at the face of my father for the very first time.

Duke Roland had a strong face. His chin was square and determined. He had a firm mouth, even when curved in a smile. He gazed from out of his portrait with clear gray eyes. Slowly, my feet whispering against the stone floor, I moved until I was directly before the portrait. My parents stood close together, their bodies touching. My father had one arm wrapped around my mother’s waist. Her head tilted back to rest against his shoulder.

Oh, look!
I thought.
See how much they loved each other
.

No wonder coming to the World Below had felt like exile to my mother. I didn’t realize I was weeping until Shannon spoke.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Perhaps I should not have shown you.”

“No,” I said at once. I shook my head and felt the tears fly. “I’m glad you did. But I think you’re right. This would have been too much for Jack, at least right off. One glimpse of this, and he’d have set off to avenge our father.”

Except for the color of his eyes, Jack was the image of Duke Roland.

The shape of their faces was precisely the same. In the curve of Duke Roland’s lips, I saw the curve of Jack’s mouth when he smiled. Jack had our father’s wide, sweeping cheekbones, the almond shape of his eyes. But while Jack’s eyes were blue like our mother’s, Duke Roland’s were as gray as storm clouds.

“This must be hard for you, too,” Shannon said softly. “You look so much like her.”

My head turned toward her as if pulled by a string.

“What?”

“Surely you can see the resemblance,” she said. She moved to stand beside me. “You look as much like her as Jack looks like your father.” She cocked her head to one side. “Though, if it’s not presumptuous of me to say so, I think I can see your father in you as well. Something about the determined set of the chin, I think.”

“I wish I’d known him,” I said softly. “And I wish I’d taken time to know my mother.”

“At least you can do something about the second,” Shannon said. I felt a sudden burst of affection sweep over me for this girl I barely knew. Not only had it been the right thing to say, it had been the right way to say it, simple and straightforward. Practical, just as I was myself.

She is right
, I thought. I could still get to know my mother better. And hadn’t Mama said I had my father’s nature? My ability to plan, my single-mindedness when it came to getting a job done. I was Duke Roland’s child. I was his heir, his firstborn. Who knew what I might discover if I stopped comparing myself to Jack and simply tried to know my own self better?