Haunted (3 page)

"Just
like the others," added Ordgar the Elder; it was the longest
sentence Kestan had ever heard him say. "He couldn't handle
seeing–"

"Shut your mouth!" snarled Garom, spitting out more bits of
half-chewed bacon all over the table. "No one speaks of what
goes on in this house! No one. Not if you want to keep your place."

Mistress Merlia added some more demonled kidneys to their plates,
effectively ending the conversation, but Kestan’ curiosity was
aroused.

What
was
going on in this house?

Chapter Three

Two nights later Kestan awoke from a light slumber to see a
white-draped wraith at the foot of his bed. If Kestan had given much
thought to how he would react upon seeing a spirit, he never guessed
that curiosity would be the emotion uppermost in his mind.

The ghost had jet black hair and jade green eyes in a face that might
have been considered beautiful if it hadn't been for the multitude of
bruises marring the skin. Wearing a long white nightgown, it was hard
to determine whether the apparition was male or female. It was flat
chested, but that might have been because it was a child. Kestan
couldn't have guessed the age of the spirit, but the ghost was over a
foot shorter than Kestan himself and the gown seemed to hang off a
very thin frame. With the bruising, Kestan guessed that the person
had met some sort of violent death, and wasn't that the prerequisite
for someone to stay tied to the earthly plane? Some sort of
unfinished business? Or at least that was what he'd heard.

"What do you want of me?" Kestan asked.

In an all too human gesture the ghost cocked its head toward the
books sitting in a stack on Kestan's bedside table.

"I want you to teach me to read."

And then Kestan did something he had never done in all his thirty
years of life before. He fainted.

*

The ghost sometimes wondered why he had been sent to the Abyss after
he died. He thought he'd been a good boy. He always went to the
various temples, prayed at the household shrines, made offerings to
the higher gods and lesser gods and celebrated every saints' day.
He'd never told a lie; he'd never stolen; he'd honoured his father
and mother and showed respect to his elders.

But after the day they'd all died in the carriage he'd never seen his
parents again. He supposed they'd gone on to Paradise but he was in
the Abyss. Nothing else could explain the pain he was in and the
constant hunger. He didn't know you could feel hungry after you'd
died, but he supposed being hungry with nothing to eat was as good an
everlasting torment as any. There had been no fiery pits and the
demon had been a very fat man with a moustache and no horns or tail
that he could see.

Sometimes the demon whipped the ghost when the ghost got so scared
that he cried out in his sleep. He hadn't known ghosts needed to
sleep and to eat before he'd become one. His wrists and his neck were
collared and cuffed, the pain from the iron a torment in itself. His
afterlife seemed one of constant pain and distress and he wondered
what sin he'd commited in life to lan himself here.

The ghost could see other people sometimes, but they never seemed to
see him.

The ghost was very lonely locked up in the tower. Every day the demon
tied him up to one of the wooden supports, the iron almost buring his
skin, but somehow every night the ghost was able to get free and
sneak around the house that was in the Abyss. It seemed like his old
house, but the ghost saw things and knew that it was an evil house
now, for how could it not be with the fat demon in charge? He ate
leftovers from the kitchen whenever he found any, for the demon never
fed him.

Then the strangers came and he thought they would be able to help
him, for they didn't seem to be in league with the demon. But every
time he approached them, they got scared and ran away. The ghost
didn't mean to scare people, he just wanted them to help him.

And now he'd gone and done it again! The new stranger had lasted
longer than he others, but now he had passed out from fright and the
ghost would never learn to read, never know what all those strange
markings on the pages meant. He sensed that if he could read, he
would somehow be able to escape the demon and his own personal hell.

The ghost had never tried touching anyone before; he knew he could
eat food and the demon could touch him, but would he be able to touch
normal people? Alive people?

His hand trembled as he reached out towards the man on the bed. The
stranger's face was so pale. If the ghost didn't know better, he
would think the stranger was the ghost and not he, for how could
anyone alive be so pale? The ghost traced his index finger along the
stranger's pale cheek. The man moaned and his eyelids fluttered as he
struggled to open them. As soon as they did, the man reached out and
grabbed his wrist.

The ghost struggled, but he couldn't get free. He opened his mouth to
scream, but another hand was clamped over it and he smelled ink and
parchment on the man's fingers.

"Ssh, don't scream. Don't be scared, I won't harm you."

The ghost's eyes widened in surprise. The man was scared of
frightening
him
? He nodded though, to show that he wouldn't
scream. His mouth was released, as was his wrist.

"You're not a ghost," said the man in wonder. "You're
real."

"No. I am a ghost," he said. "I'm in the Abyss and I
have to be able to read before I can get to Paradise and see my
parents again."

"Do ghosts have names?" asked the man, sitting up and
resting against his pillows. The ghost vaguely remembered pillows and
beds, when his mother or father would tuck him in and read him
bedtime stories. But he'd never learned to read them himself and he'd
never had pillows or beds since he'd been here.

"I don't remember my name. What's yours?"

"Kestan."

"K- K - Kestan," his tongue struggled with the word. "It's
a nice name. What did you do?"

"Pardon?"

"Why are you in the Abyss as well?"

"I'm not in the Abyss, although that might be debatable. I'm
very much alive, and so are you. This is Grunhall Abbey and I am the
tutor to the young master here."

"I don't understand." This wasn't the Abyss? Then why had
he been in such pain and despair? Why did the fat demon torment him
so?

The ghost turned and fled Kestan'ss bedroom, knowing he had to get
back to his tower before the demon found him loose again.

"Wait!" Kestan called after him, but he didn’t turn
back.

*

For the next few days, Kestan wondered if he'd had hallucinations
brought on by lack of sleep. The ghost, or whoever the young man was,
had disappeared from his room despite the door being locked from the
inside. He had not returned to Kestan'ss bedroom and Kestan kept
wondering if he'd dreamed the whole thing. Deep down he knew he
hadn't, he could still feel the boy's flesh in his hand. The boy's
skin had been warm to the touch and he remembered the boy's breath
over his hand as he tried to stop him from screaming. Who was he? And
why did he think he was a ghost? Kestan knew he would get no answers
either from the Grunhalls or their staff, who had all been frightened
into not talking.

So he would just have to do some digging on his own. After Nunos'
lessons, Kestan took to haunting the bottom of the bell tower for he
suspected some answers would be found up there. Garom caught him a
few times and gave him dirty looks, but since Kestan was really doing
nothing but walking around the grounds, there wasn't a lot the man
could do. There was no law or rule restricting him from walking in
the grounds.

One day Kestan took a walk in the formal garden and decided to risk a
wander around the maze. The hedges were just a few inches above his
head and he wasn't really thinking of anything in particular when he
caught a flash of green up ahead. He headed in that direction and saw
a piece of paper fluttering to the ground, but no sign of the person
who had dropped it. Kestan lifted it up and read.
The King's Head
Tavern. Five of the clock
.

Kestan stared hard at the note. The King's Head was a public house;
he'd seen it on the way out of Sapphire Lake coach station. Obviously
someone wanted to meet him there; would they have the answers he
sought? It would be difficult leaving the house without being seen or
without some sort of excuse. Grunhall would jump to the vilest
conclusions if it became known that Kestan was meeting someone.

He took tea in the kitchen and when everyone else had left to go
about their duties, he decided to sneak out the back way and across
the fields. Kestan hoped to be back long before dinner and that his
absence would go unnoticed.

It didn't take him long to get to the village and the public house by
the station. He was a few moments early and Kestan'ss eyes scanned
the crowd hoping for some sign as to who he was supposed to meet. The
main taproom was filled with smoke from pipes, and he coughed a
little as he made his way to the barman through the haze.

"Are you Master Kestan?" the man asked, looking Kestan up
and down.

"Yes." Kestan hoped he hadn't just fallen into a trap.

"Your guest is waiting in the private parlour. You won't be
disturbed; I'll see to it."

"Thank you," replied Kestan, surprised at the man's polite
manner. He pushed open the door to the lounge and stopped short in
surprise. "Misstress Jessamyn!"

"Thank you for coming, Master Kestan. I didn't know who else to
turn to."

The girl was dressed in a travelling cloak and there was a carpet bag
by her feet. "You're leaving?"

"I'm going back to my parents tonight. The Grunhalls won't want
me any longer. Not when they know..." She didn't elaborate, but
placed a protective hand around her abdomen.
Ah, the ruin of many
an unmarried girl in these times
. It had been different during
the war, people were more accepting of couples who hadn't waited for
a cleric's blessing, after all they could die tomorrow. But now that
there was peace again, it was a different story. "I don't know
how I'm going to tell them."

"And the young man? He has abandoned you?"

"No! Never! He promised me we would get married and he has never
lied to me! That's why I wanted you to see you, Master Kestan. I want
you to find out what happened to Syldas. I don't think he left at
all. Two nights ago he gave me this." She held out her hand,
where a very small golden band glinted on her left hand. "It's
just brass, I know, but he wanted me to have it until he could afford
a proper one for the wedding. He'd even been to the prester to see
about dates at the temple. Does that sound like someone who wanted to
abandon me?"

"No, it doesn't," Kestan agreed, although he had to wonder
if all of it was just an elaborate ruse on the boy's part to escape
his responsibilities.

"I think something has happened to him," said Jessamyn
firmly. "I feel it. Those awful people did something to him, I'm
sure of it! You haven't been there long, but don't you think there is
something strange going on in that house? There's evil there, Master
Kestan, and I fear Syldas has been caught up in it."

A few days ago Kestan might have been inclined to take her words as a
flight of fancy from a distraught, troubled girl, but Jessamyn seemed
far from mad. Add that to the fact that Kestan himself had seen a
disturbed boy who had thought he was in the Abysss; he realised the
truth of the matter. There was evil in that house and it had the name
Grunhall.

"I will see what I can do, Misstress Jessamyn, although I fear I
may be of little help."

"It will be enough that you tried. You can reach me here."
Jessamyn handed him a slip of paper with her parents' address. A
villa in the capital city, an address Kestan knew quite well.

"You're Earl Chadron's daugther? I've met your parents, but I
don't rememer seeing you at the villa. I'm sure I would have
remembered such an elegant young lady."

Jessamyn smiled. "Thank you, Master Kestan. I was probably away
at school when you first visited and then I became Lady Nydia's
companion. It has been quite a few years since I've been home."

"If I might be so bold, why was an earl's daughter acting as a
paid companion to Nydia Grunhall? It doesn't seem to fit with your
station in life, not that I mean to pry."

"My father thought work would build character before he settled
on a husband for me. Of course, now his plans have gone awry. I
hadn't meant to fall in love, even less to give into fleshly
temptations, but these things happen, don't they?"

Remembering his own colourful past, Kestan could only agree.
"Mistress Jessamyn, forgive me for asking, but the boy... he did
not force his attentions on you when they were unwanted?"

"No, Mr. Snape. I can assure you that everything happened
because we both wanted it to. Syldas did not force me. I love him and
I will love our child, even if I have to give it up. My carriage will
be leaving shortly, I have to go. Please, can you keep me informed of
anything you find out?"

Kestan nodded, looking at her address again. "I will. May the
gods speed you and look after you on your journey."

"Thank you. You're a good man, Master Kestan. Be careful at that
house."

Kestan didn’t reply. No one had ever called him
good
before.

Chapter Four

"Master Nunos, you are not paying attention!" barked Kestan
when the boy's attention wandered yet again. Nunos Grunhall had no
interest in learning and Kestan was rapidly coming to the end of his
tether with the young man. If he would ever fit in at the academy
would be a miracle! Kestan wouldn't be surprised if he dropped out or
was sent down even before his first term was out.