The Kingdom - Clare B Dunkle - Hollow Kingdom 01 - The Hollow Kingdom

As they stumbled along, footsore and exhausted, Emily let out an excited squeak and tugged Kate around. Far across the fields, a light was shining. It wavered, winked out, and then showed up again. The girls turned and scrambled toward it.

The light was a bonfire, blazing up in the darkness with a reddish glow, and figures moved back and forth before it. The fire lit up no house or barn. It appeared to be built in the middle of an empty field. Kate began to watch the figures by the fire uneasily. A hunting party? Gypsies? Vagabonds? Two men stood by the fire in long cloaks, their hoods pulled down over their faces. That spoke perhaps of hunting and of the stormy weather. Two or three short people moved about as well. Children? They had to be, but there was something odd about their shapes. As the girls came nearer, Kate noticed four horses standing patiently beyond the fire. They appeared to be saddled. Hunting, then, but who would be out on such a night? She began to slow down, not so anxious to walk out of the darkness toward this strange group, but Emily, clutching Kate’s hand, began to speed up. Warmth, light, people—these held no fears for her. She broke into a trot, pulling her sister behind her.

The party turned, sensing their approach. One of the short figures broke away from the firelit circle and bustled toward them.

“Oh, look! Two pretty girls right out of the storm! Do let old Agatha tell your fortune, dears.”

“Gypsies!” whispered Emily excitedly as Agatha hurried up. Kate stared down, astonished, at the shortest woman she had ever seen. Agatha came up only a little past Kate’s waist, but her small, stocky body did not appear to be hunched or twisted. The old face was seamed into countless wrinkles, and the black eyes snapped and sparkled in the firelight. “Here,” she said, capturing Kate’s hand in her own surprisingly large one, “come by the fire so I can see your pretty face.”

As Kate followed Agatha over to the bonfire, she glanced around nervously at the other members of the party. The two men stood nearby. One was only a little taller than she, thick and barrel-chested. The other man, of average height, towered over him. Perhaps they had been conversing before, but now they were silent, watching Agatha and the two girls. They were draped in the black cloaks and hoods she had noticed earlier, and she could see nothing at all of their faces. This was prudent, given the coming storm, but it irked Kate to be seen and not to see. She wished she had a cloak of her own.

Agatha, meanwhile, was peering intently at Kate’s palm, turning it this way and that in the firelight. “Oh,” she breathed. “Not every young lady has a hand like this.” Kate heard chuckles from the men. “But, dear,” she said, ignoring them, “I see danger in this hand. Danger from someone very close to you.” Now the men roared with laughter. “Be quiet, the two of you!” She whirled on them, still holding Kate fast. “I’m very serious!”

“What about me?” demanded Emily eagerly, holding out her hand to the old woman. “Do you see danger in my hand?” Old Agatha took her small palm and turned it toward the fire.

“And such a lively thing you are, my dear!” she said to Emily. “Still a long way from marriage, aren’t you? Well, that can’t be helped, and one does grow, you know.” Emily giggled over this odd speech, but Kate frowned. Hugging her arms about her, she stepped back from the firelight and eyed the two men warily. Now they had turned away and were talking again in quiet tones. She couldn’t seem to catch what they were saying. The taller one threw back his head and laughed at something the short one said. She noticed as he laughed that he carried one shoulder higher than the other.

“Your palm speaks of tears early but laughter late,” Agatha summed up grandly. “That’s as good as a palm can say. You’ve a lovely, open nature, child.”

“Oh, Kate, look!” Emily called excitedly. Kate turned to see a huge black tomcat approaching the fire. It rubbed its head against Emily’s knee, its velvet coat shining in the light. Kate felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Surely the cat was four times—no, six times—larger than the largest cat she’d ever seen!

“Isn’t he beautiful?” squealed Emily, kneeling to tickle his chin. She loved animals of all descriptions, and her greatest regret was that the aunts wouldn’t let her keep pets. The enormous cat was almost eye to eye with her. “Miaow?” he said plainly, and that is just what it sounded like: a miaow said by a person imitating a cat. Kate shook her head and stared hard at the giant feline as if he were a puzzle she needed to solve. Something needed explaining here. Perhaps she was just dreaming?

“Oh, scat, Seylin!” scolded Agatha, waving her big hands. “Such a nuisance you are, really! Go on!” The men walked away, heading toward the horses. A small boy came out of the shadows to throw wood on the fire. Kate thought she saw a beard on his face as he turned to look at her. Just a trick of the light, perhaps, or nerves. Enough of this! Emily stepped toward the shadows, coaxing, “Seylin …” Kate caught her by the arm and pulled her around, turning to the old woman.

“Thank you so much for the fortunes,” she began firmly, “but what—”

“Oh, I know all about it, dears!” Agatha interrupted kindly. “Two pretty girls lost on a wild night, scared and tired, looking for the way home. You let old Agatha take care of that. We’ll take you home, don’t worry. Can’t have you out in a storm like this, no. And the only question is, who will take whom? Let’s see, where did they go? What’s your name, dear, Kate? And who will take Kate home, eh?”

The taller man was leading his horse, a large gray hunter that any gentleman might be proud to own. Kate noticed that the man limped slightly. That, along with the high shoulder. Old age? His posture was unaffected, and he carried himself with dignity. He couldn’t be old; he had laughed like a young man, and when he spoke, his voice was not an old man’s voice. It was rich and pleasant, naturally commanding. “Don’t worry, Agatha. I’ll take your Kate home, of course.” Amused and tolerant. Amused at what? The old woman? Their silliness in getting lost?

“Oh, Marak!” breathed Agatha delightedly, turning her twinkling black eyes on him. Kate felt again that sense of unease. Why the delight and excitement over a simple, good-hearted gesture? The man brought his horse up to her wordlessly and turned to check the saddle. She could see nothing but a black cloak. Good cloth, Aunt Prim would say. Expensive cloth, generously cut. Big, gloved hands pulling down the stirrup. Kate looked more closely. The right hand had six fingers.

“W-wait!” she stammered. “You—you don’t know where we live. How can you promise to take us home if you don’t know where we live?” The man paused for a fraction of a second and then continued his work without looking up. She turned quickly, hoping to see a surprised look on Agatha’s face, hoping to find some answer to the riddle she was facing. But Emily blurted out helpfully, “Yes, we live in the Hallow Hill Lodge. Do you know where that is? Are we very far from there?”

“Of course we know where you live, dears,” replied Agatha with a chuckle. “Do you think anyone in this country doesn’t know of the pretty girls come to live with the two old ladies up in the forest? We’ve not got much to gossip over around here. Now, let’s see. Marak, shouldn’t Thaydar take the little one along? Such a receptive nature, such pluck.”

“I think so,” replied that amused, amiable voice. “It’s probably for the best. So, ready?” And he turned to Kate, putting out his hands to boost her up onto his horse. Emily was stroking the horse’s neck delightedly. He was far finer than any at the Hall.

“No!” said Kate, stepping back and treading on her sister’s foot. “I—I prefer to walk, thank you.” A silence swept across the little group.

“Oh, Kate!” Emily gasped.

The rider dropped his hands slowly and seemed to stare down at her from beneath his hood. He was almost a head taller than she was. “Really,” he said distinctly, all amusement gone from that commanding voice. His manner was beyond cold. It was glacial.

Kate forced herself to hold up her head and face him as the blood rushed through her cheeks in a tingling wave. She wasn’t sure why she had said what she did, but she would not be faced down now by strangers. Something was wrong here; she knew it. She refused to be a fool for them.

“Yes,” she replied as calmly and formally as she could. “Please lead my sister and me to the Hallow Hill Lodge, where we live. If you do, we will be very grateful. I hope we are not far from the Lodge because we do not wish to try your patience too long.”

The hooded man continued to stare at her for a long moment. Then he gave a short laugh. “Well, well, how intriguing! No,” he continued firmly over Agatha’s spluttered protests, “we will certainly humor the cautious young woman. Thaydar, I’ll not need you. I believe one horse is sufficient to point out the way.” He swung up into the saddle. “Now, shall we begin our walk?” he added to the two girls. “Or, that is—” he went on, bending toward Emily. “I assume that you prefer to walk, too?”

“I do not!” said Emily decidedly, glaring at her sister. She caught the rider’s arm and let herself be swung up before him.

“Em!” shouted Kate, panicked, but it was too late. He settled her little sister comfortably and put the horse into a plodding walk. Kate stood for a second, hands shaking, unsure what she had expected. Then she had to scramble after them.

The darkness pressed in around them as they left the bonfire behind. Lightning flickered and flashed. Marak’s good humor seemed to have returned, and he soon had Emily telling him all about life at the Lodge. Kate stumbled along at the horse’s flank, trying to keep up. She felt like a complete fool.

“So your name is M. That’s a letter, isn’t it?” he asked. This notion caught Emily’s fancy powerfully, and she couldn’t stop giggling.

“My name is Emily Winslow, but my sister calls me Em. Or maybe she calls me M. I wonder what I stand for.” Kate tripped over a root and thought Emily sounded like an idiot.

“Isn’t it funny how humans name a child one thing in order to call it something else? So many names. It’s like a game. M’s a new one. Kate—now, that’s a name everyone knows.”

They were walking through a field of weeds. The weeds were up to Kate’s waist, and she kept slipping on the long stalks. “Miss Winslow,” she muttered through clenched teeth, but Marak heard her. He must have very good ears.

“Oh, hello, Kate, are you all right down there? Are you enjoying your walk? So, Miss Winslow. How convenient. You have one name for friends and another for enemies.” Emily giggled again. He certainly was making a hit with her.

“I do not have a name for enemies,” Kate answered sharply. “Polite society dictates the use of a person’s name.” She emphasized polite; she just couldn’t help herself. “I am Kate within my family and Miss Winslow to strangers.”

“Oh, good, Kate,” came the cheerful reply. Really, this was intolerable. “I can keep calling you Kate and still be part of polite society. I’m family, you know. Hugh Roberts of Hallow Hill is a relative of mine. His grandfather and my mother were cousins. Their fathers were brothers.”

“Really?” exclaimed Emily excitedly. “I didn’t know we had any more relatives.” Neither did Kate. She felt her mortification could not go further. Perhaps this man had been on his way to visit his cousin. He must have known all about the two new wards. And now everyone would know how absurdly she had acted. But why had he been so rude? Why the hood, the wordless meeting? Really, it was his fault she had made such a colossal blunder. She was upset to the point of tears.