Before they could exit I backed down the ladder.
“Never mind, this wagon’s full,” I said loudly. “I’ll wait for another one.”
Aidan, missing nothing, nodded and waited on the ground.
He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. “Were you … speaking to that serpent?”
I thought of ways to deny it, ways to lie, ways to shield him from the truth. But then, I didn’t want to. Not for his sake, not for mine, and not for loyalty to the lifegiving snake around my arm.
“I was, Aidan,” I said. “I was talking to it.”
He closed his eyes. He reopened them.
“And could the serpent talk to you?”
I saw the fear, the revulsion in his eyes. I owed him no further explanation.
“You can go ahead, Aidan,” I said, feeling my face burn. “I’ll wait for the next wagon to come. I’ll walk if there isn’t one.”
Aidan shot me a look of vexed disbelief. “Really, Evie?” he said. “I told your grandfather I’d see you safely to Chalcedon. You think I’d leave you alone now?”
There was no mistaking his meaning. Duty, a promise, his sense of honor. They were all that kept him here.
“Grandfather will thank you.” I fought to keep my face neutral, to prevent it from betraying my hurt. “When we reach Chalcedon, your task will be finished.”
Chapter 21
The sun was high in the sky by the time we climbed into our rescue cart, driven by a freckled boy of about thirteen and pulled by an ancient mule. I crawled into the straw in the bed of the wagon and lay there, wondering if I’d ever have the strength to rise again.
We rode past fields and pastures, watching cows chew cud faster than the mule could lift his hooves. Under my dress, my leviathan slept. Odd though it would seem to have a sleeping serpent wrapped around me, there was something sweet and soothing about it. Had it been only me and Aidan in the cart, my loneliness would be unendurable.
Was it really yesterday that I woke up in my own bed, in Grandfather’s house, feeling all the world lay before me, a shiny oyster to be opened?
And now I had a leviathan. Or it had me. Why me? Of all the people in the world who might inherit such a prize, how did I come to be the one?
And what did my mother have to do with it?
More than once I looked up from my stupor to see Aidan looking at me, but when our eyes met, he turned his elsewhere. Once he opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind.
After an hour, the driver clapped his hand over his forehead and swore. “Ma’d have my hide!” He reached underneath his seat and pulled out a box. “I forgot. She sent some food for the poor shipwrecked folks. Too bad there’s only two of you to eat it.”
Bodies will not rise faster on Resurrection Morning than Aidan and I rose from the straw, practically fighting over the lunchbox. We caught ourselves and almost laughed, then wrestled the box open. Inside, shining like manna from heaven, were a dozen cooked eggs, four thick slabs of greasy cooked bacon, two sliced loaves of bread all spread with butter, and a jug of milk.
We attacked that food like starving hounds. Aidan shucked and stuffed two eggs into his mouth at once, and I gnawed at my bacon. We had to rest between bites and gather strength. When I’d finally sated my initial, overwhelming hunger, and gotten down to the business of slowly eating some good solid bread, I felt a stirring underneath my sleeve that made me squirm. My leviathan was rousing and sniffing the air.
Food? it said. Nice fish?
I took morsels of egg and bacon and, when Aidan wasn’t looking, slipped them under the collar of my dress. It was a ghastly thing to do, and I began to think longingly of a hot bath.
My serpent moved over my skin, up and around my shoulder, and I felt the tiny movements it made as it worked its mouth over the bits of food and swallowed them.
I felt its sensation of shock and surprise. Ffaugh, it said. What kind of fish is that?
“Not fish,” I whispered as softly as I could. “Not fish at all.”
Strange.
“People like that food.” I held my hand over my mouth as though I might cough.
People are strange. Is there more?
“We’re nearly to Chalcedon,” Aidan said, watching the road pass by. “When we get there, I’ll take you to my master’s house. When I explain what’s happened to us, they’ll put you up for the night. And in the morning I can take you to the Royal University.”
And lose no time about it, I thought.
What would I do with my leviathan at the university? If what it had said about my mother was true, she’d had one there too. Perhaps I could conceal him under my dress.
Under my dress!
While Aidan’s eyes were elsewhere, I reached down under my collar, probing for the king’s pendant, my ticket to school.
It was gone.
I patted myself all over, as discreetly as I could, searching for it. It wasn’t there.
It must have fallen loose in the sea.
What’s the matter, Mistress?
Aidan saw me searching. I decided to tell him. Even if he regretted his ill-considered kiss, he was a Maundleyan, and Maundleyans looked out for one another.
“I’ve lost something,” I said in a low voice. “The pendant the king gave me, which will admit me to University. It was pinned under my dress, but now it’s gone.”
“Are you sure?” Aidan said.
“Quite.”
You should have told me.
“That’s a bad business.” Aidan shook his head.
“I’ve lost everything,” I said, giving way to misery. “My money, my clothes, my books. Without the king’s seal, what have I got?”
“We all lost everything, Evie,” Aidan said. “We’re lucky to be alive.”
I sulked at his rebuke. He was right. That didn’t mean I had to like it.
The wagon stopped. Chalcedon’s towers rose against the darkening sky. The sun was just beginning to sink into the ocean, and lamplight began appearing in windows along the city wall.
I stepped down from the wagon, brushing dirt and debris off me, and gazed upon the vast city. So many buildings, so ancient and strong, built of massive blocks of hewn stone—hewn by masons like Aidan for centuries. Which ones belonged to the university? I saw churches, towering cathedrals with spires reaching to heaven, and there, on high ground, that must be the king’s castle. In all that great metropolis, would I find any comfort, any help?
Bells began to ring, tolling the evening hour. I’d never heard such music before. Deep, sonorous tones and high tinkling chimes floated across the wall to where we stood.
My gaze rested on the castle, its banners shining in the last sun’s rays.
“If your master will shelter me tonight, Aidan,” I said, “I’ll seek an audience with King Leopold himself tomorrow. I’ll tell him of the bandits on the king’s highways, and ask him for a letter to present at the university.” I gave my luck charm, the last of the three, a squeeze. “If my luck holds, he ought to remember me.”
Chapter 22
Morning found me waking slowly from a deep, soft bed into a cheerful room decorated with a green bedspread and yellow curtains. It took a minute to remember where I was, and why.
I sat up and felt the leviathan slide over my skin. He’d slept on my collarbone. Would I ever grow accustomed to this?
A small mirror hung over the washbasin. I was horrified to see how dirty and disheveled I looked. But a dress lay draped over the chair for me to borrow, and my stockings had been washed and left for me. The basin was full of warm water, and a mound of soap and a cloth had been silently provided as well. Countless blessings upon Mrs. Rumsen, Aidan’s master’s wife, who had taken me in, fed me, and led me straight to her daughter’s bed.
I came downstairs to find them all at the breakfast table—bald Mr. Rumsen, plump and cheerful Mrs. Rumsen, their daughter Dolores, Aidan, and a skinny apprentice of thirteen. I felt shy as they greeted me. Dolores Rumsen w
as a pretty girl, with bright red hair, charming freckles, and striking green eyes. Her mother, I could tell, had looked very much like her in her day. Dolores might be a year older than me. She sat by Aidan and sliced him a piece of bread.
“Good morning, Miss Pomeroy!” Mrs. Rumsen rose to greet me, which made the curls poking out from under her cap bob. “Our Aidan here’s been telling us more about your misfortunes along the way. What a frightful journey you’ve had, my dear!”
I took the chair she offered me and sat down. Our Aidan. Aidan practically belonged to them now, after six years’ apprenticeship. Once he looked like that pimply apprentice.
“Say good morning to Miss Pomeroy, Henry.” Mrs. Rumsen prodded the young apprentice, who obliged with an unintelligible sound. He was too busy stuffing what looked like half a dozen eggs into his mouth to bother with visitors.
The homey smell of hot eggs and toasted bread overcame any awkwardness I felt about accepting help from strangers. We’d made it to Chalcedon, to friendly, smiling faces. The king would assist me, and I’d be tucked away in a cozy cubicle at the medical college by tonight.
“As I was saying, Moreau,” Mr. Rumsen said, waving his toast at Aidan, “you’re ready to go it on your own now. I’ve been thinking it over, and I don’t see any point in you staying here.”
The Rumsen women made little peeps of displeasure, but said nothing. I watched Aidan to see his reaction, but whatever he felt, he mastered it well.
“Your work’s excellent,” Rumsen went on. “But we don’t need two masters here. I don’t aim to retire anytime soon. You’d best find a post and make your fortune.” He swallowed a drink of coffee. “Time you did, if you plan to set up housekeeping of your own.”
Here his gaze moved to his daughter, and hers to me. I looked away. Not to be ignored, she passed me the platter of eggs. “Aidan tells me you and he are neighbors back home?” I couldn’t miss the thousand meanings tucked into her inflection on “Aidan tells me.” Tells me all his secrets, tells me anything I ask him, tells me my bright red curls are the prettiest in all Chalcedon. Oh, stop, Evie, stop!
“Yes,” I said, spooning myself some eggs. “We’ve known each other forever.”
Food? said a little voice inside my head. Strange fish?
“Not now!” I whispered into my hand, resolving to save my leviathan some scraps when I cleared away my plate.
“Well, we think our Aidan is as fine a young man as they make nowadays,” Mrs. Rumsen said, patting her husband’s huge hand. “Don’t we, Everard?”
Mr. Rumsen gave a grunt as he chewed his bacon.
“Nowadays,” I repeated, unwilling to concede this point entirely. Undoubtedly there had been better young men, once upon a time.
This left an awkward silence. Dolores was the first to fill it.
“Such a commotion since you’ve been away!” she said brightly. “You probably haven’t heard, Miss Pomeroy. It’s just been announced, two days since, that King Leopold is getting married, and soon. To Princess Annalise of Merlia. They say she’s desperately beautiful.”
“They’re strange folk, those Merlians,” Mrs. Rumsen said, cutting her ham with deep disapproval. “But I suppose it doesn’t matter if you’re strange, if you’re beautiful.”
Food, Mistress. Food.
I stroked my collarbone as though I had a slow itch and thought of King Leopold and his sparkling teeth. Married? It should come as no surprise. Too bad for all girls like Prissy who could no longer dream of the bachelor king.
“Sounds like a rushed business,” Mr. Rumsen said. “I don’t hold with rushed marriages.”
“I met the king,” I said, to my horror, “when he came to Maundley last week. He presented me with a school prize.”
Dolores giggled slightly, and Aidan looked away. I wanted to crawl under the table. I never said such boastful things! It was that infernal redhead that flustered me so.
“Isn’t that nice?” Mrs. Rumsen served Aidan a second slice of fried ham. “It must be a treat for the provinces to get a peek at His Majesty. Of course, for us in the city, it’s not so rare.”
Of course not. The eggs in my mouth turned to rubber.
“I heard some interesting talk in the marketplace myself this morning,” Mrs. Rumsen continued, and I blessed her for it. “It concerns your ship. What was it? The White Flagon?”
“White Dragon.” It was the first peep I’d heard out of Aidan all morning.
“Just so,” said the lady of the house. “I heard that when the ship capsized, several passengers claimed they were rescued by a hideous sea creature!”
Henry’s mouth gaped open, revealing a good portion of half-chewed breakfast.
Dolores smiled. “You can’t believe that, Mother.” She gave me a wink, as if humoring credulous mothers was a hobby we shared.
Aidan’s eyes met mine for a moment. Was he worried that I might speak?
Under my dress, my leviathan scuttled his head back and forth. I’m not hideous. Other males envy my size and color, and my …
I nearly choked on my glass of water.
“Are you all right, Miss Pomeroy?” Mrs. Rumsen threw down her napkin and rose to help me, but before she could, Mr. Rumsen thumped me vigorously on the back.
“I’m fine,” I said, before the elder stonemason could whack me into kingdom come.
“They said it was like a giant snake in the water.” Mrs. Rumsen took her seat. “Laws, but I despise snakes! Stomp on their tails whenever I find one underfoot in the back garden.”
“Now, Betsy, I’ve told you before … ”
I didn’t listen to Mr. Rumsen’s defense of snakes. “It’s all right,” I whispered under my napkin, for now my leviathan was nearly frantic. “Stay calm. Please. I won’t let them hurt you.”
“But surely, Miss Pomeroy, you can lay the matter to rest, can’t you? Aidan tells me”—there was that little smirk again—“that he was unconscious on the beach after his ordeal in the water. Did you see the monster everyone’s talking about?”
I kept my eyes on my plate. “Everyone?”
Skinny Henry broke the silence. “Did you, miss? Did you see a foul beastie in the sea?”
Food, Mistress. I must have food soon.
“I saw no foul beast,” I said firmly.
Dolores looked surprised by my tone of voice.
Aidan seized on a sudden idea. “It was dark anyway,” he said.
Now I was the one surprised.
“Well, thank heavens you didn’t see it,” Mrs. Rumsen said.
“I think you’re disappointed, Mother,” Dolores teased. “You were fascinated by it.”
I slowly raised a fork of ham to my mouth. Would this torturous conversation never end?
“I most certainly was not.” Her mother blinked indignantly. “If I thought there were such horrid creatures in the ocean, I’d never sail again.”
“Fortunately, there are none,” said Dolores.
Strange fish!
And, poking his head out from my collar, my leviathan snatched the ham from my fork.
Chapter 23
Spoons clattered. Mrs. Rumsen and her daughter screamed. Mr. Rumsen sprayed breakfast as he swore, and the apprentice jumped up and snatched at my neck. I threw up my arms to block him.
“Snake!” Mrs. Rumsen cried. “In your dress!”
Down under my collar, my leviathan was working hard on his slimy ham prize.
“It’s not … ,” I began.
“You mean … you knew it was there?” Mrs. Rumsen squealed. “Everard!”
“Did that thing sleep in my bed last night?” Dolores was now standing behind her chair, clutching it as if ready to wield it at the creature. “Aaaagh!”
“That was no ordinary snake,” Henry said, hopping back and forth. “It had a funny head. Like a little dragon. Oh, lemme see it!”
“Aidan Moreau,” Mrs. Rumsen said through clenched teeth, though her eyes were on me, “what is the meaning of this? What unnatural thing h
ave you brought into our Christian house?”
Aidan’s face flushed crimson. “I didn’t … I mean, I never knew … ” His halting apologies couldn’t get far. Mortification was written on his face.
“Where’d you get that, miss, offa some sailor?” Only Henry wasn’t horrified.
“No,” I said, rising from my chair. “Aidan did not know I had this, Mrs. Rumsen. I’ll go now, and send the dress back when I’ve found another.”
“Keep it,” Dolores said, her freckled face full of loathing. “I wouldn’t wear that dress for a kingdom, even if it was washed ever so many times.”
“Thank you for the food and shelter,” I told Mrs. Rumsen, who wouldn’t look at me, and I pulled the door shut behind me.
I hurried up the street. I didn’t want to be found, or caught, or helped. Not anymore. Aidan could stay there in his second home. I didn’t need his kisses, or his aid. Not now or ever.
I ran until my sides hurt, and regretted eating breakfast. I found a little church with open doors and strains from a wheezy organ reaching outside. I went in and sat in one of the rearmost pews, half hidden by a thick pillar, and waited to see if my lungs would cave in on the spot.
And then, without warning, I began to cry. I ducked my head down so no one would see.
What had I done?
I wiped my eyes on Dolores Rumsen’s sleeve.
No matter what my leviathan could do—rescue the drowning, raise the dead—serpents inspired loathing. Mankind had hated them since time began. Women didn’t think, they just squashed them underfoot. Now my welcome would be the same.
And I’d have him with me until I died. Which meant, if the Rumsens were any indication, I’d be spending my days alone. Who would have me now as a friend, a granddaughter, a neighbor? When granny grew ill, would loved ones call the snake doctor to come and help?
I felt the leviathan creep over my shoulders, around the back of my neck, and then curl himself lovingly under my chin.
Why are you sad?
“Because I am alone and penniless in this great city,” I said. “Isn’t that reason enough?”