She was still shaking when the woman reappeared at the foot of the bed. Her face wore a look of urgency as she motioned to Zared to follow her.
Zared shook her head no. She was not going to go with a ghost. No doubt it was a Howard ghost who knew that she was a Peregrine.
The woman's mouth opened, and Zared put her hands up as though to protect her face. Would fire come out of the woman's mouth?
After some time Zared lowered her hands, and the woman was still there. She had a soft, patient look on her face.
"W-who are you?" Zared managed to ask. "What do you want of me?"
The woman held out both of her hands, palms up, in a pleading gesture.
Zared shook her head again. "No," she whispered. "I do not want to go with you."
The woman's face took on a look of urgency, pleading.
"No!" Zared half yelled. "I will not."
At that the woman looked about the room as though searching for something.
Zared didn't know if she was going crazy, but she was growing used to the woman. "What do you seek?"
The woman looked back at Zared, then pointed at her hair.
"Aye, it is short. I had to cut it again to be able to come to my husband. It will grow longer."
The woman pointed again and again, this time with some urgency. Zared tried to figure out what she meant, for she was beginning to realize that the ghost was not going to leave until she had something from Zared. She searched her mind to figure out what it was about her hair that intrigued the woman.
"This is as bad as the riddle," Zared muttered, and at that the woman began gesturing frantically.
"The riddle?" Zared asked, and the woman nodded her head vigorously. "You have something to do with the riddle?" Again the woman nodded.
Softly Zared repeated the riddle, and when she came to the last line she looked hard at the woman, seeing the small oak table through her. " 'Then shall you know,' " she said, and her face lit up. "My husband's brother is dead, and he is now the one."
The woman nodded, and her face showed her relief at Zared's understanding.
"You are here to tell me."
The woman again nodded.
Zared leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes. The solution to the riddle was within her grasp. The solution to who owned the rich estates was near to her, yet all she could think of was, God, why have You chosen me? If the solution was given to Rogan or Severn, they would know just what to do, but Zared didn't know. If it was found that the estates belonged to her brother, should Zared take them from her husband and give them to her brother? Or did her love as well as her loyalty belong to her husband? Could she take away the estates from her husband? She had told Tearle that Rogan had changed, that some of his hatred was gone, but had she been telling the truth? If Rogan had proof that the estates belonged to him, would he take them from Tearle and leave him a beggar?
She opened her eyes and saw that the woman was still there, patiently waiting for her to come to a decision.
Zared sighed. It was no use agonizing over what was. For some reason she had been chosen to be the one to settle the feud.
Slowly she got out of bed and began to dress in her boy's clothes. It was, perhaps, better to know than not to know.
At last she turned and looked at the woman, who was still waiting for her. Zared took a deep breath. "I am ready."
The woman looked Zared up and down, and at first she thought maybe she disapproved of her clothes, but then Zared realized that the woman was probably a relative of hers, of hers as well as Tearle's, since she and Tearle were cousins, so perhaps the woman was studying her descendant. Zared was glad the woman had never seen her before, because that meant she hadn't been sneaking about spying on her.
The woman slipped through the oak of the door, but Zared quietly opened it and looked into the hall. There was no one about, but there were torches in iron holders on the walls, and the corridor was brightly lit.
Zared tiptoed out of the room and into the corridor, following the ghostly shape of the woman as she floated ahead of her.
After a while Zared's fear and her pounding heart made her feel that she'd followed the woman down corridors for hours. She had some trouble when four dogs came running from a dark alcove and, teeth bared, made straight for Zared.
Before she could run the woman appeared and put herself between the dogs and Zared, then the dogs, with fear on their faces, turned and ran the other way. For a moment Zared's knees were too weak to allow her to walk, but the woman gave an impatient look, and Zared managed to follow.
Zared followed her down corridors past brightly lit rooms and into the oldest part of the vast castle. There the rooms were not lit at all, and from the dirt and debris it seemed they were not used very often. A rat scurried under Zared's feet, but she hardly noticed it. What were rats when one was following a ghost?
At last the woman stopped and pointed at what Zared thought was a door. It was so dark in the corridor that she could barely see her hand in front of her face. Had it not been for the glow of the woman's body she could not have followed her.
Zared looked where the woman pointed but could see nothing. Then, as Zared watched, her mouth open in horror, the woman began to turn about in a circle, moving faster and faster. As she twirled about the glow of her body became brighter and brighter. When the woman stopped her body was as light as though sunlight were shining on it.
The woman smoothed back a strand of hair, then looked at Zared, who could feel her knees giving way under her. The woman reached out as though to touch Zared, but her hand slid right through Zared's arm.
That, added to what she had just seen, was almost the finish of Zared. She felt herself sinking to the floor and would have fallen had not the woman looked so annoyed with her. She started pointing in a vigorous way to the door that could now be seen quite plainly.
Zared did the best that she could to regain control of herself and put out her shaking hand to touch the latch of the door. The old door opened rather easily, and with a trembling body Zared entered.
It was a dirty old room, one that looked as though it hadn't had a human visitor in years. Great cobwebs hung from the shattered silk of the bed hangings. There were bats hanging in one corner of the room, and wind whistled in the broken glass of the large window.
Zared looked at the woman, who, now that they were in the room, was losing her eerie glow. She wasn't sure, but she thought there were tears in the woman's eyes. Could ghosts cry? she wondered.
The woman seemed to straighten herself, then she tightened her lips. She waved her arm and, to Zared's further horror, the room instantly changed. It was no longer dirty and dim and faded but was restored to its former glory. The bed hangings were once again a brilliant crimson, and the floor had fresh rushes on it. There were murals on the walls as well tapestries.
Zared's first instinct was to climb into the bed and hide under the covers, but something told her that it was just an illusion and that the bed was still covered in spiders and rat droppings that were quite real.
She took a deep breath and turned to the woman. "What do you want to show me?"
She watched the woman float toward the tapestry and point to it, and it took Zared some time to figure out that the woman wanted her to lift the tapestry. As soon as she touched it it fell off the wall. It looked clean and new and strong, but in reality it had decayed in the dampness.
Zared dropped the tapestry and kicked it aside. The woman floated toward the wall and put out her hand. To Zared's eyes there was only solid wall there. "Is something under here?"
The woman nodded.
"I don't see anything."
At that the woman began to turn about again, and Zared somehow knew that she was again going to turn until she became a human torch. "Please don't," Zared said. "I will look."
The woman seemed to understand and stopped turning about while Zared ran her hands over the wall looking for an opening. It was some time before she found
a crack, but she could not get her fingers into the narrow opening.
"I will have to go back and get a tool. I can't budge the stone."
At that the woman seemed to panic. She went to the door and put herself before it, holding out her arms to bar the way. Zared knew that the woman was right. She couldn't leave the room. It had taken too long to find the place, and soon Tearle would return and search for her. He'd be quite angry that she had left his room after telling him that she wouldn't, and he would probably put her under guard if he had to, to keep her from leaving again.
"You are right," she said. "I cannot leave. Are there tools in here?"
The woman seemed to think for a moment, then she went to a large chest against the wall and pointed. Zared opened the chest. The only things inside were yarn and knitting needles. She held up a pair of the steel needles. "You want me to remove a stone block with knitting needles?" she asked.
The only answer she got was a weak smile from the woman, a smile so human that Zared smiled back at her. "Are you my grandmother?" she asked, and the woman nodded. Zared smiled again. "I think Rogan's oldest boy is going to look like you." Again Zared thought she saw tears in the woman's eyes, but she turned away too quickly for Zared to be sure.
Zared went to the wall and began to dig with the needles. She was so intent on digging the loose mortar away from the block that she did not hear the door open or the footsteps approach her. When Tearle spoke she jumped half a foot off the floor.
"What, may I ask, are you doing?"
She turned, her hand to her heart, and stared at him. "You frightened me half to death. What do you mean sneaking about like that?"
"Sneaking? In my own house? You swore to me that you would remain in my room."
She did some quick thinking about how he had found her. "And you said you would not put a guard on me. You must have had someone watching me if you could find me here. Is your brother… ?"
"Aye, he is dead."
"So now you own this pile of riches."
"I own this pile of blood," he said grimly.
Zared wasn't sure what to say to that, but she looked about the room. It was once again the filthy, untouched place that she had first seen, and there was no sign of the ghost, but there were two torches on the wall that had not been there before.
"What do you here?" he asked.
"Did not the person you had follow me tell you?"
He gave her a little smile. "He said you have the eyes of a cat and that he could see nothing. He did not know how you could see where you were going."
Zared realized that the man had not seen the ghost.
"How do you know this place so well to find this room? Do you not know that this room is said to be haunted? As a boy we used to dare each other to enter here."
"And did you see no one in here?"
He gave her a strange look. "Once I thought I saw a woman in here. She looked at me with great interest."
Probably wanted to see what her descendant looked like, Zared thought, but she said nothing.
"Again I ask you what you do here."
Zared took a deep breath. "I do not know for sure, but I think perhaps the ledgers that tell of the legitimacy of my grandmother's marriage are behind this stone."
He opened his mouth to ask her questions about how she knew this, but he closed it. After a while of looking at her he said, "Did you come back to me so that you might get near this room? So that you might find these registers and give the estate to your brothers?"
"No," she said softly. "I returned because I wanted you. I did not know of this place. Tonight I was… led here."
He searched her face. He didn't ask her who had "led" her or what she meant by that statement, but he could tell that she was telling the truth. He withdrew his knife from the sheath at his side and began pulling the mortar from the stone.
It took the two of them some minutes, but they managed to remove the stone. Tearle put the stone on the floor, then took a torch from the wall holder and held it to the wall. Inside they could see two fat old books. Tearle reached out to take the top book.
"No!" Zared fairly shouted, and she put her hand over his wrist to stop him. "Put the stone back. I do not want to know."
"Do not want to know what?" he asked softly.
"I do not want to know who is the rightful owner. You should have the place."
"No, your brother should have it. If the registers say that his grandparents were married legally, then the title and the lands are his, not mine." He lifted one eyebrow at her. "Do not tell me that you are in truth a greedy woman. Do you want to keep it all for yourself?"
"I do not care for me," she said as she looked up at him. "What do my brothers know of running a place this size? All they know is war. You should have seen how filthy Moray Castle was before Liana came. Rogan will make this beautiful place as dirty as that."
"You would do your brother out of what is rightfully his because of a little dirt?"
She looked away from him. "No. Dirt does not matter. I am afraid of what Rogan will do to you. He might send you away. He might bar you from this place for all eternity."
Tearle put his hand under her chin and lifted her face so that she looked at him. "I have property from my mother. Will you go there to live with me?"
"Yes," she whispered. "I will go with you anywhere. But—"
"But what?"
"You will lose your title. You will not be the duke. It is a thing a man wants."
"Perhaps it is something that your brother wants. It was something that my brother wanted enough to kill for, and your other brothers were willing to die for the land and titles, but I am a different man. Do you not see that I am lazy?" He smiled down at her. "I want only to have a nice place to live in comfort and a wife to love me. It is all I have ever wanted. I should like some sons to ride and hunt with, and some daughters to play music to me when I am old and can no longer play myself. I should like to live long enough to have grandchildren. I want no more than this in life."
Zared looked at him and knew that he was telling the truth. He had never wanted any part of the feud, any part of the killing and the hatred, and, quite suddenly, neither did she. She wanted to walk away from the huge estate with all its riches, and, as Tearle said, with all its blood, and go back to his house and live there with him. The short time they had had in that house was the happiest time in her life. There the excitement was not over who had lost an arm or a foot but over which plants were blooming in the gardens and whether they could hear the baby owls at night.
She thought about him and his house and about the children they would raise, girls who did not have to dress as boys in order to stay alive and boys who would not die in battle before they reached manhood.
"That is what I want also," she said to him, then she stepped back as he pulled the first ledger from the hole in the wall.
She held her breath as he opened it and began to turn the brittle pages. She watched him as he scanned the writing on the pages, and when at last he stopped she waited until he looked at her.
"Your brother Rogan is the duke," he said softly.
Zared let out her pent-up breath and smiled at him. "Shall we go home?"
He returned her smile. Not many women loved a man enough to give up being a duchess. He put his arms around her and held her close.
Zared looked over his shoulder, saw the ghost of her grandmother behind them, and smiled at her.
The woman smiled back and nodded her head as though she was very pleased, and then she was gone.
Tearle pulled away, then took Zared's hand. "Yes, let us go home and begin those babies."
She smiled at him, and they left the room together, their fingers entwined.
^
Jude Deveraux, The Conquest
(Series: Peregrine # 2)
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