Mistle Child (Undertaken Trilogy) (15 page)

All right,
Silas thought,
don’t tell me.
But he suspected that because it was named for the god of the threshold, of beginnings and endings, that whatever the job entailed might be an elaboration on his work as Undertaker, and might involve the massive doors of the house and the dark stone upon which they stood.

“Then may I ask you a historical question?”

Maud nodded.

“Why isn’t the title ‘Undertaker’ used for it as well? Why use the name of an old Roman god? Why the change?”

“The position holds more than merely the name, I assure you. It is no secret that when the Lamb rose up, when that new god came to drive out the old gods, many hid themselves within some of the ancient families, granting them certain authorities in repayment for continuing the old ways. Thus, the Umbers have played host to the Janus for many centuries. Janus was the older title. Undertaker came later. It is, shall we say, a little less exalted and a little more colloquial.”

Fascinated, Silas asked, “So, was some part of the god ‘passed down’ from generation to generation?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

Maud tensed and Silas could see the question made her hesitant. She looked about the hall as if fretful about being overheard. Silas pressed on.

“Is there only one god per family?

Maud’s body began to lighten and about the edges of her form, Silas could just discern the textures of the wall behind her, as if she were fraying.

“Usually.”

“But might a really old, big family play host to more than one god?”

“That is hard to say,” Maud said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “At times, in the history of this house and this family, it has seemed so, yes.”

“Are you saying we have . . . other forces at work within our lineage? We hold the door for the dead, I know that. We help them. What else?”

“These are not questions I can answer for you at present—”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but are you suggesting I was invited here
not to be told
such things?”

“Silas, those answers lie within you, not me.” Maud turned her head away. She was shaking. Her form wavered and blurred upon the air. Was it nervousness or excitement? She seemed to want to say more, but was holding back.

Silas thought he might get away with maybe one more question, but it was hard to control himself. “If I am Janus, Maud, what must I do? How long was my dad Janus? Is it very much like Undertaking? Does it only happen here? Is it connected with the Door Doom that I’ve read about? Did I become Janus when I passed the gates into Arvale? Will I—”

“You are not Janus yet,” an iron voice bellowed, reverberating against the stones of the walls. Silas, startled, stepped back at the sound.

From an archway in the dark paneled wall to the right of the hearth, a man emerged and filled up all the space in front of Silas. Appearing to be perhaps in his late sixties, the ghost was large and solidly built. He wore a long coat and had a cravat wrapped tightly about his thick throat. He spoke formally, as though this were a kind of state occasion.

“Silas, I am Jonas Umber. Be welcome in this house. It would be best if you let us answer your questions in our own way and in our own time. Learning too much at once might be . . . awkward for everyone. Know that you are Janus Presumptive, and there will be some formalities necessary before you may wield that title.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Silas, taking another step back, a little awed and intimidated at the sudden appearance of his formidable ancestor. He swallowed his curiosity for the moment. As Undertaker in Lichport, he had some authority. At Arvale, he wasn’t sure who was in charge or what exactly was expected of him, so he would accept waiting to see how things fell out, for the time being.

Silas recognized the name of the man in front of him. “I sort of know you. You were once Undertaker of Lichport as I am now. I’ve read a bunch of your writing in the town’s death ledger. You are a very learned man. I’m really honored to meet you.”

Jonas looked at Maud, and the stony expression he wore as he entered the hall softened slightly. “He is at least a discerning reader, that much I grant you.”

Silas reached out to shake Jonas’s hand. The firelight caught Silas’s ring, and blue fire danced on his finger. Jonas stared at the ring intently, letting his arm fall absently to his side.

“Silas Umber, where did you get that ring?”

It sounded more like an accusation than a question. Silas looked down, embarrassed at being examined, and pulled his hand back. But not wishing to seem rude, he reluctantly held the ring up to the light so Jonas might see it better. “My great-grandfather gave me this. I believe it was my father who gave it to him.”

“That was a generous gift both times. Your great-grandfather, you say? You mean Augustus Howesman? Of course, from your mother’s long-lived side of the family,” Jonas said with a barely hidden sneer. “Very kind of him to return it to the Umbers. I am pleased that you’re wearing it. Such relics should remain in the family.”

A cold light came from Jonas Umber’s eyes and his brow furrowed as if in intense concentration. Then he put his hands together and looked down at his own bare fingers. “Yes. It is well that you wear the ring your father kept and his father before him.” Silas could see that though he continued speaking, Jonas’s thoughts were now focused elsewhere. He looked at Silas with an expression of resolve. It was clear that he had set his mind to some action or other. “It was a fine day when your great-grandfather put that ring on your finger. A fine day, indeed. Such a beautiful stone . . . he must miss it terribly. But now, as the ring’s keeper, you will always remember his generosity, and his sacrifice.”

Jonas’s voice had drawn into a low growl and Silas regretted telling him where the ring had come from. He thrust his hand into his coat pocket.

Despite his tone, Jonas smiled broadly, then called into the open doorway from whence he’d entered. A man wearing a herald’s surcoat walked quickly into the hall. Jonas leaned over to the herald and whispered something into his ear. Silas couldn’t hear what Jones told him, but the man ran off, and a moment later that deep bellowing trumpet sounded again, very similar to the blast Silas had heard at the gate with his great-grandfather.

As the sound faded, Silas noticed that Jonas and Maud were conferring in low tones. Still uncomfortable after the conversation about the ring, he stepped away several paces to give himself some space and appear polite. Acting the part of a guest, he pretended to take an interest in the carvings that adorned the wood paneling on all the walls. Jonas and Maud faded, and their forms became transparent. Silas could tell they were talking, but it was like watching a movie with the sound turned off. When he said their names in his mind, however, and closed his eyes, he could hear portions of what they were saying, as if he’d already heard their conversation a long time ago and was only now remembering. The longer he listened with his eyes closed, the clearer the conversation became.

“Really, Jonas! Your haste . . . zeal . . . unwarranted . . . will regret it . . . fear . . . you harm who he loves, for . . . reason . . . turn away from us.”

“Maud . . . must insist . . . let me see to things in my own way. I am trying to help him. You should know . . . and . . . if he passes through the fire, he may yet undo what the father has wrought upon . . .”

The room went quiet, and suddenly self-conscious of his eavesdropping, Silas opened his eyes to see the two ghosts staring at him, their forms filling again with detail and presence.

Perhaps realizing Silas had been trying to hear them, Maud said, “It’s all right, child. We were just talking about how everyone here, each in his or her own little way”—and she gave Jonas a sharp look—“is trying to help you . . . to welcome you. Ah! But here is more of the company!”

Lines of relatives began filling the great chamber from the many open doorways that emptied into the hall. Their attire was as various as the architecture of the house. Some wore wool dresses and tunics like Maud’s and bore an aged countenance, patient and upright, their faces calm and pale as those of the carved caryatids adorning each side of the fireplace and supporting the mantel. There were some who wore doublets and bell-shaped gowns of rich velvet with collars of ermine or lace, their clothes stitched with patterns of pearls and jewels that glowed and glinted against the dark fabric like stars in their constellations. Some men on the far side of the hall wore open silk jackets revealing richly embroidered waistcoats. Gold buckles glinted from their shoes, and three-cornered hats sat jauntily atop their heads. Their female companions wore dresses so wide that they had to turn slightly to pass through the doorway into the hall. Others wore fitted jackets and dresses of the last century with high starched collars on the men, and the women’s dresses gathered up into large bustles, their collars buttoned up tightly against their necks. The ghosts of his relations filled the hall, and the closer Silas gazed, the more varied the clothes became: robes of rich silks, turbans set with gems and feathers. And scattered here and there throughout the hall now, standing a little apart from the others, were people wearing long robes of heavy fabric, with great hoods that, if drawn up, would swallow their heads entirely. Thick gold chains of office hung across their chests and shoulders. They never took their eyes off Silas.

“Here is your family,” said Jonas with pride. “In time, you may come to know them all, though it is not likely. Some are more ‘present’ than others. You will understand what I mean.” Slowly, the crowd began to move past Silas. Some bowed slightly, some looked him up and down, one or two turned up their noses, others seemed not to see him at all. Some reached out their hands to him, but as Silas stepped toward them, they fell away from the company, drifting back to their own particular zones of the house, Silas guessed. Most merely spoke quiet words of welcome as they approached, then swiftly vanished.

“There are so many folk filling the hallways and hidden chambers of this mighty house. They are your family, Silas. Every last one of them! This is not nearly all. You’ll meet more at the feast. Even the most ancient corners and towers are full-filled with relations. Some have ‘retired’ and no longer attend family functions because of forgetfulness or willfulness. Others are merely bound up in their own affairs and explorations. A few find that a more predictable schedule suits them, and even helps. So we dine regularly.”

Jonas looked around, moving his eyes from one end of the hall to the other, trying to find someone or something.

“What is this? When are we? What season? Where is the contingent from the summer house?” Jonas asked.

“The cousins have not yet appeared. But soon, I think,” said Maud. “You remember . . . they no longer enter the house.”

“Yes. Then word should be sent to them. All must know Silas is in residence and must know him on sight. I want no misunderstandings or accidents.”

“What do you mean?” Silas asked, not liking the word “accidents.”

“Some of the family are more territorial than others,” replied Jonas, scanning the throng.

“Don’t worry,” said Maud, answering them both. “I shall keep a good eye on our Silas.”

“All right, then.” Jonas’s voice became a trumpet, filling the great chamber with its call. “Let us embrace our relative, Silas Umber! Let him be welcome here! Let him find peace within this place! Let him rise nobly to his most hallowed office! May the work of the family continue!”

From all about the room, cheers and cries of welcome went up.

“Yes,” Jonas continued. “Be welcome, Silas Umber. And may the Door Doom, so long abandoned, now continue in its ancient and accustomed business.”

This received a mixed endorsement from the crowd. At the mention of the “Door Doom,” many of the relatives began to exit the room, continuing their welcomes to Silas by waving behind them as they departed from the great hall. Jonas bowed to Maud and Silas, saying he’d return later to familiarize Silas with various family affairs and other needful matters. A moment later, Silas and Maud were alone again in the great hall.

“Maud, have I been called to here to fulfill some obligation? To take part in this Door Doom? I think I’d like to know what is expected of me.”

“Silas, as I’ve said, such matters will be discussed in due course. Patience. Let all things reside in their appointed season. Besides, Jonas is particularly looking forward to discussing it all with you. Let’s not deny him the pleasure.”