The Kingdom - Clare B Dunkle - Hollow Kingdom 01 - The Hollow Kingdom
“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.
“I’m afraid if you’re Mr. Roberts’s relative, you’re no relative of mine,” she snapped before she realized what she was saying. Oh, no! After keeping quiet all this time!
“What?” demanded Emily, and, “Really?” exclaimed her tormentor. He reined in the horse and turned to face her. “What do you mean, you’re not a Roberts? I thought you were living with your great-aunts.”
“Oh, Em, I’m sorry,” faltered Kate, looking up through the darkness at the pale smudge that was all she could distinguish of her sister’s face. “It’s old news, really; no one minds. Our great-grandmother was adopted into the family, that’s all.”
There was a pause. Then Marak urged the horse back into a walk.
“I can’t say I’m sorry,” he said thoughtfully. “New blood is very good for the Hill. But which great-grandmother are you talking about?” Thoroughly cowed, Kate told the story of Elizabeth’s adoption, Adele’s death, and their own consequent arrival, but she was rather scandalized when Marak laughed at all the wrong places.
“That’s not how my mother told that story, Kate,” he said carelessly. “I wouldn’t believe everything that fool Roberts tells you.” Emily snorted delightedly, but Kate was bewildered.
“Do you mean you think he lied about the adoption?” she asked, struggling along by the horse’s side.
“Oh, no. That’s the only thing I do believe, but what a thing to tell you. Poor Kate!” he teased. “I don’t think Roberts likes you at all.”
If he calls me Kate one more time, thought Kate, I’ll do some thing horrible. Then she thought about the several horrible things she had already done that evening and subsided into misery again.
“We don’t like him, either,” confided Emily heatedly. “He’s just hateful, with his long words, and his hallow hill, and his hollow hill, and his linguistic persistence of ignorance.”
“What?” The rider seemed highly amused. “He’s been explaining everything for you, has he? Tell me, what did he say about the Hill?” Emily went into a somewhat confused rendition of their cousin’s speech on the place-names, and this time Marak laughed at all the right places.
“Well, Letter M,” he announced, “almost every bit of that is wrong. Completely and thoroughly wrong. Pigheaded. Would you like to know why it’s really called Hollow Lake?”
“Yes!” exclaimed Emily.
“It’s called Hollow Lake—because it’s hollow.” There was a momentary pause.
“Now, what does that mean?” Emily burst out.
“It’s just hollow, that’s all.”
“How is it supposed to be hollow?” demanded Emily. “You’re just being silly!”
“No,” the man replied pleasantly, “I assure you I never lie. Now, that’s a funny thing, lying. If you notice, M, most humans can’t do without it. They consider it an essential component of—how shall I call it?—polite society.” Kate felt the sting in his words and set her teeth. She wondered when this interminable journey would end.
“Humans lie to each other constantly. They mean to. They think it best. They tell you what a clever child you are when they mean someone should muzzle you, and they tell one another how handsome they look when they think they look absurd. They believe they’re doing the world a favor by lying. Why, take your sister as a case in point.”
I won’t say a word, Kate promised herself stoically, and Emily rushed to defend her sister against her newfound favorite.
“Kate doesn’t lie!” she said indignantly.
“Oh, doesn’t she?” answered Marak, sounding much amused. “Well, M, I’m sure she doesn’t lie often, but such is the frail nature of humans that she simply couldn’t help herself. Imagine”—he lowered his voice dramatically—“as she stood by the bonfire tonight, she saw outlandish and otherworldly sights, and when I came toward her to lift her onto this horse here, she knew—she just knew—that if she let me put her onto this horse, she’d be galloped away beyond the world we know into some strange, shadowy underworld.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And not one of the mortals on this earth would ever see her again.”
Emily went off into gales of laughter. Kate felt a swift chill run through her. How could this stranger know what she had felt? She hadn’t even known it herself. But that was it exactly, down to the last detail.
“And so,” continued Emily’s storyteller cheerfully, “what on earth could your sister say? Could she say, I think you are about to steal me for what awful ends I know not? No, she is a human. She fell back on the polite lie. And so she said”—and here he took on a haughty tone—“ ‘I prefer to walk.’ ”
Kate forgot her promise to keep quiet. “You must think that I am a perfect fool!” she exclaimed.
“Oh, no,” the rider assured her. “You are a woman of rare perception. Not one woman in a hundred—maybe a thousand—would have realized in time. I find myself wondering,” he added thoughtfully, “just how you managed it.”
Kate tried to puzzle out this strange speech. Another riddle for her to solve. It sounded very important, but she was too tired to make any sense of it. If the walk continued much longer, she was afraid she would collapse. She felt as if she had never done anything else but stumble through blackness.
“And here we are,” concluded Marak. They came up a rise. The orchard trees loomed out at them. Gravel crunched underfoot. And in another minute, there stood the Lodge itself, solid and comforting, with golden light streaming out of all the downstairs windows. The rider swung down from the saddle and lifted Emily to the ground. “Off you go,” he told her. “I stay here.”
“But won’t you come in, Mr. Marak?” begged Emily. “I know the aunts would love to meet you.”
“Oh, I know them,” he answered carelessly. “I remember when they first came here. A pretty young thing the blond was then, I assure you! But newly widowed. That was a real pity,” he added feelingly. “No, I’ll come in another time.”
“Good-bye, then, and thank you for the ride!” Emily wrung his hand and dashed up the path. He turned to Kate, who stood hesitating, almost too tired to walk farther. Now that they were back in the light again, she found his cloak and hood insulting. She could make out nothing about him, and he seemed to know everything about her.
“Kate, you look terrible!” he said sincerely. “You’re completely exhausted. Well, you won tonight, and I’m not a good loser. I’m not used to it. But until next time”—and he held out his six-fingered hand.
Kate shook her head and put her hands behind her back. She glared up at him, beside herself with indignation. She said firmly, “I hate to appear rude—”
“Yes, you do, don’t you.” He laughed. “Oh, I know what’s bothering you,” he teased before she could turn away in disgust. “The cloak and hood. It’s been on your nerves all evening. You’ve been imagining all sorts of horrors, I’d guess.”
This is just another way to goad me, Kate thought grimly, but he was absolutely right.
Marak tugged back his hood and examined her stunned expression. He watched her cheeks grow pale, her lips bloodless. He grinned in delighted amusement.
“You imagined all sorts of horrors. But maybe not this one.” And he swung back into the saddle and rode away.
Chapter 3
“Mr. Marak brought us home,” Emily said from Aunt Celia’s arms. “He’s so nice, he let me ride his horse, and it was such a beauty, too! We should invite him over to say thank you.”
Aunt Prim knelt before the fire, heating water for tea. Never mind that it had been steamy all day; with the thunderstorms around, the air at the Lodge had turned gusty and chill. Besides, Aunt Prim believed in treating any case of accidental contact with inclement weather as if the victim had just been dragged out of a snowbank.
“Who’s Mr. Marak, dear?” asked Aunt Celia, yawning and smoothing back Emily’s tumbled hair. It was one o’clock in the morning, and both aunts had been too frantic to sleep.
“Oh, you know, Mr. Roberts’s cousin. He knows all about you. He said you were a pretty young thing, Aunt Celia, when you first came here.”
“How nice of him to say that, dear,” she answered, “but I can’t place who he would be.”
Just as Emily opened her mouth to explain, the door slammed loudly. They looked up, startled, to see Kate standing against it, a Kate they had never seen before. It wasn’t just that her clothes were damp, filthy, and torn. It wasn’t even that her hair straggled wildly about her dirt-smudged face. It was the ghastly color of that face and the glittering eyes full of unshed tears. She stared back at them for a few seconds, her chest heaving as she struggled for breath. Then she burst into loud sobs and collapsed onto the floor.
“Draw the curtains! Draw the curtains!” was the first thing she managed to say. Emily ran to comply. They hustled her to the couch, pulled off her shoes and stockings, and piled blankets on her, but when Aunt Prim brought her a cup of tea, she could barely hold it, her hands shook so much. She gasped and shivered and alarmed her aunts extremely.
The worried Prim wrapped Emily in a blanket and made her drink a cup of tea, too. “But, Aunt Prim, there’s nothing wrong with me,” protested Emily. “I don’t know what’s wrong with Kate, I really don’t. She and Mr. Marak were quarreling a little, but I think that’s really her fault because she was rude to him. What happened to you, Kate? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Kate let out a quavering little laugh. I suppose I do, she thought. The memories of the bonfire and the journey whirled around in her head like fragments of a dream. She gulped the hot drink, feeling its warmth spread through her, and looked at the cozy room. Everything here was so real, so solid. Outside she could hear rain lashing the windows, thunder rolling and advancing, the wind howling in the trees. The storm had finally struck.
“Emily,” said Aunt Prim. “I want you to tell Celia and me everything that happened tonight. And, Kate, I want you just to listen. Start right at the beginning and go on till the end, and don’t leave anything out.”
Emily had been waiting practically her whole life for such an invitation. She had a world-class story and a perfect audience, and her sister was not to say a word. Emily started at the beginning and went on till the end. She didn’t omit a thing. She didn’t even forget to tell them that their nephew was a pigheaded fool.
“Well, Kate, I can certainly understand your being tired and upset,” Celia said cautiously. “But—did anything else happen, dear? That Emily’s left out?”
“Yes,” Kate said, taking a breath. “After Em left, Mr. Marak said good-bye to me. No—he said—he said until next time.” She thought about that for a second, and her eyes grew large. “And then I wouldn’t shake hands with him because he’d been so rude. So he laughed and said I was just upset because of his hood, that I’d been imagining all these horrors. And then”—she raised her frightened eyes to theirs—“then he pulled back his hood. And he said I might have imagined other horrors, but not this one. Because—because—he wasn’t human. He just wasn’t human! Oh, Em, you were on that horse with him! I can’t believe you’re still alive.”
The three listeners exchanged amazed glances. Emily was the most startled of all. She stared blankly at her sister.
“I thought he was nice,” she said.
“Now, Kate,” asked Prim, “when you say this Mr. Marak wasn’t—human—what exactly do you mean? Do you mean he didn’t look human?”
“He, well…” Kate trailed off, looking around at their expectant faces.
“Well, what?” prompted Emily. “Did he have three eyes?”
“No, just two, but they were so strange,” she answered. “Different colors. Light and dark.”
“Kate,” said Aunt Celia kindly, “that is quite rare, but it’s not unheard of.”
“I know,” Kate replied, “but that wasn’t all. His hair was all wrong, too. It was part white and part black, like a horse’s mane, and it was long, and loose, and it wasn’t like hair somehow.” She looked helplessly at their puzzled faces.
“For heaven’s sake, Kate, he was an old man,” snorted Emily. She had secretly been hoping for empty eye sockets or no head.
“No, you’re wrong, Em, he wasn’t old. Oh, he must be old, but he looked, well, not young, but … not old. But so ugly and bony, and his skin was so pale! And his eyebrows were all thick and bushy, and his teeth—there was something awful about his teeth.” Emily started to giggle. “Stop it, Em! I just can’t explain it.” She glared at her sister. “You wouldn’t be laughing if you saw him, too. He was just—all wrong somehow.”
“Well, Kate,” said Aunt Prim sympathetically, “he doesn’t sound like a nice old man at all. He sounds like quite an eccentric all the way around. He certainly set you up for a shock, wearing a hood and talking about horrors and ghostly rides. I suppose if you saw him neatly trimmed and brushed by daylight, you would have thought he looked odd, but you were tired and unstrung, and he wanted to give you a scare. Your nerves weren’t ready for it, that’s all. You haven’t been yourself these last several weeks.”
