Haunted (2 page)

"Perfectly, sir."

"Good. I'm glad we understand each other."

"What age is your son?" Kestan asked, really just for
something to break the uncomfortable silence.

"He just turned nineteen this summer. And he's off limits,"
Grunhall added with a fierce glare. Just because he preferred men did
not mean that Kestan lusted after every man in the world and he had
no designs on Grunhall's son. If he was anything like his father,
Kestan wouldn't have a problem staying away from him.

"I see. I understand you've had some trouble keeping tutors for
your son?"

"There's nothing wrong with my Nunos!" exclaimed Grunhall,
puffing out his chest in indignation. "It was them! Couldn't
handle the work; that's what did it!"

There was no mention of any ghost, not that Kestan had expected there
to be.

"Well, Sir Grunhall, I am not afraid of hard work and I will do
my best for your son."

"Your best had better be good enough to get him into the acacemy
or you'll be dismissed! And you won't be getting a glowing reference
from me like the King set, I can assure you of that!"

Chapter Two

It soon became apparent that Kestan's best was not going to be good
enough for Nunos Grunhall. For the first three days he skipped his
lessons entirely and on the fourth he stumbled into the room, his
hair an unkempt mess and his attire in such a state of dishabille
that it looked liked he'd spent the night in a ditch somewhere. The
boy was as rotund as his father, with little neck to speak of and
three chins that wobbled every time he moved. The buttons on his
waistcoat stretched over his fat chest and belly, his legs were so
fat that they bulged over the top of his boots. Desire was the last
thing on Kestan's mind as he stared at the disgusting whelp.

"Master Nunos, it would behove you to arrive punctually for my
classes in future. I am not here to waste my time."

"You can't tell me what to do! You're just a servant!"

"I am your school master. Now, where are your textbooks?"

"Don't have none," pouted Nunos, glancing out the window at
some horses in one of the fields adjoining the estate. Kestan hoped
for the sake of the animals' health that Nunos Grunhall was not a
rider.

"You don't have any? Surely you must have had some books from
your previous tutors."

The schoolroom was in what had previously been the abbey's
scriptorium. One wall was entirely covered with floor to ceiling
windows, letting in lots of light. Two walls were given over to
extensive bookshelves. Apparently, the Grunhalls had inherited the
library along with the house but the books looked almost untouched,
covered with a layer of dust. It seemed safe to assume that the
Grunhalls weren't great readers. Kestan perused the shelves to see
what might help him with Nunos's education, although the boy seemed
disinterested in lessons of any kind.

Kestan found some tomes on Natural Sciences, Mathematics, common
languages as well as classical poetry and epics; but there wasn't
anything on Geography, except for an atlas over one hundred years out
of date. He picked out a few random novels but there was nothing on
the Magical Arts and Sciences either. As he reached the last
bookcase; he paused in surprise. There, in amongst the dry tomes, was
something he had not expected to see in a gentleman's library. He'd
heard of the book, but had never seen a copy.
The Lovers' Vow
was supposedly the most erotic novel ever written. Kestan wondered if
Grunhall even knew it was here. He placed one of the drier novels in
front of it and resolved to investigate it further when everyone else
was abed.

Kestan returned to the desk he was using and set all the books down
on it. "Well, Master Grunhall. Let's start with some
Mathematics, shall we? Or shall we start on the Magical Sciences
today? Have you done anything on those? Scrying? Spellcrafting?"

"You can't teach me those!" Nunos protested. "Magic is
forbidden!"

"Practicing magic is forbidden, yes, but you'll still need to
know the theory behind them."

"Why? I'm to be a a soldier, I'm not a mage. I don't need to
know any of that stuff."

Kestan pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache which
was threatening.

"Here in Anterra, yes, magic is forbidden. But that is not true
of all nations. As a soldier, you may find yourself battling those
who have magic. You need to know what spells they might use, so that
you might anticipate them and stay alive. This is a very basic part
of every soldier's education, I assure you."

"My father won't like it. He hates mages. Says they were
cowards, standing behind their spells instead of fighting like real
men. You're not a mage, are you?"

"No."
Not any more.

*

Kestan had never suffered from insomnia before. Most nights, he fell
asleep as soon as his head hit the pillows, but for every night he’d
spent at Grunhall Abbey, sleep eluded him. There were strange noises,
creaks and groans that he tried to convince himself were just an old
house settling down for the night. There were no such things as
ghosts! It was just the darkness and being in a strange house that
disturbed him so, that was all. He tossed and turned, punching his
pillows this way and that, but he just could not get comfortable.
Kestan grunted in frustration, knowing that this night was going to
be no different; he needed to get to sleep but had no idea how to get
the rest that so eluded him. His mind wandered to the book he'd seen
in the library; perhaps some reading might make him sleepy? Or at
least give him something else to think about besides his lack of
sleep.

He rose from the bed and wrapped a fur-lined robe over his
nightshirt, before lighting a candle and making his way downstairs.
He met no one on his way down to the library; he guessed everyone
else was already abed and from the snores coming from one of the
rooms they were fast asleep as well. The house felt different in the
dark, the only light came from his flickering candle. Wallpaper
designs and latticed panelling that were so innocuous during the day
took on strange shapes and shadows as he passed; his heart was in his
mouth as he tried to tell himself that ghosts and spirits did not
exist and that nothing would suddenly sprout hands and attack him
through the wall.

Kestan hurried his pace, wanting to reach the library and get back to
his room as quickly as possible. After a fruitless search of the
library shelves he realised the book was no longer there and neither
was the novel he'd placed in front of it. Perhaps Grunhall had
discovered it and had removed it so that his son wouldn't see it; for
the book was certainly not one that any parent would want their child
to read. Kestan took a few other novels instead. Grunhall had already
told him that Kestan may make as much use of the library as he
wished. Grunhall himself did not seem enamoured of books or learning,
but seemed to want the cachet of having his son attend the military
academy..

With the candle holder in one hand and a pair of books thrust under
his other arm; it was a short trip back to his bedroom; shorter
because he ran most of the way and bolted the door behind him, the
door making a satisfying thunk in its frame. His room was sparsely
furnished and looked even gloomier in the glow of the candlelight.
There was a single iron bedstead with a blue bedspread that looked
grey in the dark; a wash stand with a pitcher and basin, both cracked
down one side so that the water slowly leaked out of both and if he
wasn't fast enough with his wash or shave, he ended up with neither.
There was no wardrobe, just a few pegs on the wall to hang his
clothes and beside his bed there was a cabinet to hold the candle and
assorted oddments. Kestan set down the novels and realised there were
two books already there.

The novel he'd put in front of
The Lovers' Vow
and the book
itself. Kestan shook his head; had he gone to the library earlier and
put the books there? His mind wandered back. No, for he distinctly
remembered lighting the candle and there had been no other books on
the cabinet then. A tree scraped against the window, making him
start, his heart hammering at the unexpected noise. He chided himself
for a fool. Of course a ghost hadn't put the books there; for a ghost
was supposed to be insubstantial and wouldn't have been able to lift
a book. Then he chided himself some more at even thinking about such
things.

There were no such things as ghosts!

*

By his second week at Grunhall Abbey, Kestan was beginning to rethink
that belief. Books went missing from the library with alarming
regularity, but only those books Kestan had touched. Sometimes they
turned up in his bedroom when he knew for a fact he hadn't put them
there; sometimes they turned up in the kitchen and the cook, Mistress
Merlia, had no idea how they got there either as she wasn't a reader.

Kestan went through all the staff as suspects in this little charade;
he guessed they were trying to get him to leave just as they'd got
the previous tutors to leave. But the how or the why of how they did
it he could never figure out. There was Garom, who seemed to have
taken an instant dislike to Kestan – and vice versa – on
their first meeting. He knew where Kestan'ss bedroom was, being the
very man to show it to him on his first night at the Abbey.

Then there was Syldas, a lad around Nonos' age who seemed to do
double duty as the boot boy and a kitchen hand as well as helping out
the gardener's boy, Ordgar the Younger. Ordgar the Elder, the
gardener, was a dour man who didn't seem the type to play practical
jokes, and his son was so frightened of any adult that he stammered
and cowered whenever Kestan asked him even an innocent question.
Kestan had no luck with asking any of them either; they denied all
knowledge of any books turning up in odd places.

It could be Nunos Grunhall, but Kestan knew that he couldn't even ask
the son of the master of the house anything about it, or he would be
out on the streets faster than he could say 'Academy'. Not to mention
the threats of arrest for his perversions. If it was Nunos, there was
nothing to be done. He would just have to put up with the practical
jokes and hope that eventually Nunos would tire of the game, for
Kestan had no intention of running from his post. He was at Grunhall
Abbey to stay.

*

By the third week at Grunhall Hall Kestan was wondering if staying
was worth it. His sleep was so disturbed that he wasn’t sure he
would be able to give his work his full attention, although the
Grunhall boy hardly seemed to notice Kestan;'s inattention. The
noises were getting more and more frequent every night and sometimes
he was sure he’d heard crying. None of the Grunhalls seemed the
type to weep into their pillows, so he guessed it must have been
Misstress Jessamyn; he wondered what could have upset her so.

Then came the night he heard loud screams coming from the young
master's bedroom, a few doors down from his own. Kestan knew better
than to barge in, but he crept to his own doorway, opening it a crack
and watched as Lady Nydia rushed into her son's room, a white
nightgown fluttering behind her, an oil lamp held none too steadily
in her hand.

"Mama! Mama! It's in my room! It's looking at me!" cried
Nunos.

"Don't look at it, Nunos! It isn't real! It doesn't exist! Close
your eyes and it will go away! Close your eyes, darling! Grunhall!
Grunhall!" she bellowed.

Kestan bent opened the door a bit further and watched as Grunhall
came lumbering along the corridor, a length of rope in his hands.
There were more indistinct screams from Nunos' bedroom but one of
them sent such a chill up Kestan'ss spine that he jolted back from
the door and locked it. That scream had hardly sounded human. For the
first time since he'd left the nursery himself, Kestan left the
candle burning until he fell into a fitful sleep.

His dreams that night were terrible, visions of death and destruction
that woke him late in the night, the bedclothes a sweaty tangle
around him. Kestan took a few deep breaths to calm himself down and
knew there was no way he was going to get back to sleep. His candle
had burned down to a stub in the night and, as Grunhall didn’t
believe in letting the staff keep spares, he had no light with which
to read by.

His heart was thundering in his ears, both from the remembered
nightmares and the screams from earlier that night. Who had screamed
like that? That final scream hadn’t been from Nunos or his
parents. Was it true? Was the house really haunted? Had he heard a
ghost or was he just being fanciful? But if it wasn’t a ghost,
who or what was it? The Grunhalls had only one child.

Kestan got out of bed and paced the room, the bare floorboards cold
on his feet, his mind frantically going over everything he’d
heard. None of it made much sense. Both Nydia and her son had sounded
genuinely frightened, as if they had seen something supernatural, but
why would Grunhall then run into the room with a hank of rope? Ghosts
couldn't be confined like that, could they?

When the first slivers of dawn light filtered through the gap in his
curtains, Kestan headed downstairs to the kitchen, wondering if he
would get any answers from the rest of the staff, for he knew he
could not risk asking the family themselves.

Most of the staff were in the kitchen for breakfast as usual. Both
Ordgars; Garom and Mistress Merlia were all there, but Syldas was
nowhere in evidence. All the rest of them had hooded and shadowed
eyes, as if they hadn’t got much sleep the might before either.

"Where's Syldas this morning?" Kestan asked of no one in
particular.

"Left, ain't he?" said Garom, speaking through a mouthful
of bacon, greasy gobs of it falling from his mouth and splattering
the table. Kestan suddenly wasn’t feeling hungry any more.