Ida swam toward the manor wall. “Yeah, well, it was in my way.” She reached the wall, climbed up, and hoisted herself through the window. Inside, she tried to shake off the smelly water as if she were a Saint Bernard.
“I’m very happy to see you, Ida.” Ned smiled hugely.
Ida looked at him. “Who the heck are you?”
“I’m Ned. I’m a friend of Josephine’s.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s somewhere in here having dinner with the Master.”
“You mean she’s on his side?!”
“Yes, you could say that,” a shrill voice behind them said. “But then, I consider everyone in Gulm to be on my side.” Ned and Ida turned to see a black-haired boy with a nasty smile. He was followed by Fargus and an old man in an orange cap, who was pulling a tied-up Josephine behind him. The boy continued, “Now, I realize this a tender reunion but we have no time for salutations.”
Ned gasped, “It’s the Master.” The boy looked exactly as Morgan had always described him, but, incredibly, he had not aged one day in twenty years. Just like Bruce’s daughter, Sarah, and Ned’s aunt, Lucy, the Master seemed incapable of getting older. Ned shuddered at the dark forces that must be at work in this manor.
Ida gaped at the oily boy with the smarmy grin. “You’re the Master?” She gave out a snort. “And I’m the Princess of Cauliflower.” The Master’s smile disappeared.
Josephine tried to warn her. “Ida, don’t—”
The Master stopped her. “Don’t worry, Josephine. I’m used to this kind of rudeness. And it is an unpleasantness that Ida will experience herself soon enough.”
Before anyone could ask what the Master meant, Ida marched toward him, red with anger. “I can’t believe I spent all those years frightened of a scrawny brat with spotty skin! You’re even shorter than I am! I’m going to wrestle you to the ground and make you eat dirt, you worthless little speck.”
“I don’t know what’s happened to etiquette these days,” the Master said calmly, and just as Ida was about to reach him, he brought his arm out from behind his back and revealed a large carving knife.
Ida stopped in her tracks. She looked at the knife and then at Fargus, who was trying to contain his excitement at seeing Ida alive.
The Master snickered, and the laugh echoed down the long silver tunnels of his manor. Surveying the children who had been trying to escape with Ned, the Master told them, “You will return to your rooms immediately.” The children looked at Ned, waiting for instructions.
Ned nodded at them. “Go on.” He looked at his aunt Lucy, still completely unaware of her surroundings. “Keep a close eye on Lucy.”
They quietly obeyed, accustomed to the intense disappointment of life in the manor. Ida stayed her ground. “There are no Brothers in here to protect you. Why should we obey you?”
“Leverage, my girl. The world is all about leverage. And at this moment in time, I have something you want”—he grabbed Josephine and put the knife on her throat—“and you have nothing of interest to me. And that means . . . I win.”
Ida spat, “The Brothers aren’t even outside. Bruce led them into the forest to kill them. They’re probably dead already.”
The Master stared at her, a small twitch appearing in his left eye. “Even if that were true, which I doubt, it is no longer of any consequence. I will soon have as many Brothers as I desire. Fargus has told me how.”
Fargus stared at the floor in shame.
Ida smiled triumphantly. “No, he didn’t. He can’t even talk!”
The Master savored the moment. “I think you will find he is a chatty little thing, given the right motivation.” He turned to Fargus. “Bind her hands, if you please, Fargus.”
Fargus didn’t move.
However, the Master knew how to motivate him. “Ah yes, quid pro quo—I quite forgot. Let’s see, how about this, my dear boy? Many years ago a young couple who had been minding one of my lighthouses was brought to me—they had failed miserably. They’d cost me a ship and a great deal of silk, and I needed to recoup my losses. So I sold the couple to a tanner in the South. I believe the tanner’s name was . . . oh dear, it has suddenly slipped my mind. Fargus, I am sure that if you were to tie up that impertinent little girl, I would be able to remember his name.”
Ida stared at Fargus. “What’s he talking about? You don’t care about those people.”
Fargus walked toward her, his left hand bandaged, his right hand carrying a rope. “He’s talking about my parents. I’m sorry, Ida.” Ida was so shocked to hear him speak that she didn’t even struggle as he tied her.
FORTY-SEVEN
Bruce ran through the forest. Although the Brothers were tired, they were catching up to him, and they were enraged. They had been chasing various prey for hours without success, and they were ready for a kill. Bruce weaved in and out of the trees, jumping over fallen logs, wishing for the endurance of his youth. His plan was to keep running until nightfall, when the Brothers would have to return to the field and bury themselves under the old tree. He had considered running back to his property and locking himself in the house, but there was Alma to consider. She should be inside fixing dinner, but what if something pulled her outside? She might go to the garden to fetch a tomato or some rosemary. Alma might have kicked him out, but he didn’t want to see her come to any harm.
And now that he had found Sarah, Alma would return to the woman she had once been, full of warmth and humor. He found strength in the vision of Alma and Sarah at his dinner table, a family once more. He was trying to remember the sound of Alma’s laugh when his foot caught on a dead tree stump. He went flying and his head smacked against a rock. The world turned upside down and then spun over itself. Bruce couldn’t move, but he could now hear Alma’s laughter and he could see Sarah standing beside her, a fully grown beautiful woman with her whole life in front of her. Bruce smiled and let his mind drift toward them.
Seeing that their prey was immobilized, the Brothers stopped running. They circled him slowly, taunting him, as Bruce waited to see how they would do him in.
FORTY-EIGHT
Fargus finished tying Ida, trying not to cry out as his burned hand touched the rope, and then joined her to the rope that held Josephine. Ned saw their situation getting worse by the second.
“The Master’s lying to you, Fargus,” Josephine said quietly. “That’s all he does—lie.”
Fargus looked at her. “The Master won’t hurt Ida. He promised me when I told him about the woodpile and the shed.” He finished tying the knots.
The Master then instructed Fargus to tie Ned as well. Ned knew he could easily knock Fargus across the room, but he didn’t want to hurt him and he didn’t want to endanger Josephine. The Master was still holding the knife perilously close to her neck, and Josephine’s eyes were wide with fright.
Josephine knew that Ned had his knife in its sheath at the back of his belt. But to use it, he would need his hands free, so she had to stop Fargus from tying him up. Despite the blade at her throat, she blurted out, “Ida has been in the holes, Fargus. She’s already hurt.” Ida looked at her as if she were crazy. “She won’t grow up. Just like the Master. She might feel older, but her body won’t ever change.”
Fargus turned toward the Master. “Is it true?”
“Well, it is more complicated than that. . . .”
