The Emerald Atlas (32 page)

Kate felt an enormous sob welling inside her. She’d waited for this moment for years; so why was it that all she wanted was to get the book and leave? She pulled her hand out of her mother’s and shook her head stiffly.

“No, I’m fine.”

Dr. Pym coughed. “I think the young lady came for this.” He reached onto the desk and lifted the
Atlas
.

“What is …” Her mother stopped herself, staring at the emerald-green tome. “… Is that … It can’t be.”

“Yet it is.”

“But, Stanislaus, you told us it was locked away! You said it was safe!”

“For the moment, that remains true. But apparently things are going to change. You see, this copy is from the future. And Katherine here, at great personal cost, brought it to me for safekeeping. Now, I can only assume, she has come to take her copy back.” He added, “Before it vanishes into thin air.”

“Yes, but—she’s just a child—”

“Clare—”

“Tell me you haven’t actually involved this poor girl!”

“These are desperate times. And it wasn’t me per se. Though future-me—”

“She’s a child, Stanislaus! Look at her! She can barely stand! Lord knows what she’s been through!”

“It’s okay,” Kate broke in. “I can do it. It’s okay. Really.”

“My dear”—Dr. Pym leaned forward in his chair—“I have to ask, is it safe?”

It was a logical question; of course Dr. Pym would want to know that the danger had passed before he gave her the book. But it caught Kate unawares, and in that moment, she felt his gaze sharpen. Luckily, she recovered quickly, sighing and letting the tension melt from her shoulders. “Everything’s fine. At last.” She even offered him a little smile.

“Very good,” said the wizard, and he handed over the
Atlas
.

She expected to feel the yank in her gut, to blink and find herself in the Countess’s cabin, but she held the book, heavy and familiar in her hands, and nothing happened.

“Now”—Dr. Pym stood—“I will leave you two alone.” And without giving Kate any indication of what she was supposed to do—tell her mother who she was, not tell—he was gone.

“I’m sorry,” her mother said the moment the door was closed, “but I am very, very upset. Not at you, of course. I’m angry at whoever pulled you into this. You’re much too young.”

Kate said nothing. She just stood there, the book clasped to her chest.

“I know I shouldn’t question Stanislaus. If he thinks you’re up to it, I have to believe him. He’s a great man, you know. Besides being a wizard and all that. Richard and I—Richard’s my husband—we’d both trust him with our lives.”

It was so peaceful in the room, with the fire beside them, the snow falling gently outside, Kate felt she could just lie down on the rug and go to sleep for years.

“Are you sure I can’t get you something?”

Kate shook her head.

“Where did Stanislaus go? Is he supposed to be sending you back to where … or whenever you’re from?”

“Last time it just sort of happened. I don’t know why it’s not now.”

“You know, Richard and I have been involved in the search for the Books of Beginning for quite a while now. With Stanislaus, of course. Is that really the
Atlas?
”

She leaned in, and Kate smelled her perfume. She knew it immediately. The years seemed to slip away, and Kate could hear her mother’s voice, asking her to protect her brother and sister, promising that one day they would meet again. Kate felt something inside her break open.

“My … brother and sister and I found it.”

“You have a brother and sister? What are their names?”

Kate looked down, unable to meet her mother’s gaze.

“You’re in trouble, aren’t you? Is Dr. Pym helping you? In the future, I mean. Oh dear, does that even make sense? What about your parents? You really are so young.”

Kate felt her eyes welling with tears, and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying.

“Oh, you poor thing …”

And before Kate realized what was happening, her mother had stepped forward and was holding her. There was no stopping the sobs. They quaked through her body as if all the tears dammed up over a decade had suddenly broken free. Kate found herself crying for the times she’d held a sobbing Emma or Michael and promised them that yes, their parents were coming back; she cried for the missed Christmases and birthdays, for the childhood she’d never had; she collapsed into her mother’s body, letting herself be held, crying, finally, because this was her own mother, stroking her hair and murmuring, “It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay.…”

Then, abruptly, her mother’s hand stopped. Kate didn’t move; she could tell something had happened. Her mother took a step back, holding Kate by the arms while staring deep into her eyes.

“Oh my … Are you … You’re—”

Kate felt the tug in her stomach, and the scene vanished. She was never to hear those next words. But even so, Kate knew that in that last moment, her mother had recognized her own daughter.

“You see, my dear,” said the Countess, lifting the book from Kate’s hands, “I knew you could do it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Dire Magnus

“Have you been crying? I must say you look dreadful. There’s a mirror if you’d like to freshen up. Oh, and this is yours.”

Kate felt the locket dropped into her hand. Numbly, she fastened it around her neck. Her vision was blurred, and she could taste the salt from her tears. With an effort, she pushed the thought of her mother, the memory of being held in her arms, from her mind. She was back on the boat, and the children needed her.

“Let them … let them go.”

“Hmm?”

“Let them go.”

“Let who go?” The Countess had carried the book to a table across the cabin and was turning the pages, a greedy, almost ugly look on her face.

“The children! You promised! You—”

The Countess flicked her hand, and Kate’s entire body went rigid. She tried to open her mouth, but it was clamped shut.

“To think, I now possess the
Atlas of Time
! And that it came to me when I had finally given up hope, when I was prepared to ride to oblivion with these miserable brats! My master is not one to tolerate failure lightly. There would have been no returning to tell him that the men of the town had revolted! But now I have the book, and all is changed.” She caressed the blank page, and her voice fell to a whisper. “Nor will I relinquish this power. Even to him. I see that now. The
Atlas
is intended for me alone. It found me.” She smiled at Kate. “Of course, the dam will still be destroyed and the children will die. But it really is no more than they deserve. Tiresome place, Cambridge Falls.”

She lied, Kate thought. She was always going to kill the children, and now she has the book too. Sick at heart, Kate cursed herself. Why hadn’t she told Dr. Pym about her vision? Why did she always think she was the one responsible?

Please, she thought, please …

And then, as if her wishing had summoned him:

“Loyalty is certainly not what it used to be.”

The old wizard stood in the doorway, tweed suit, glasses askew, his face a mask of quiet fury. He glanced her way, and, for a moment, their eyes met. Kate saw that he understood why she’d done what she had and he forgave her everything. The relief she felt was so profound that, had it been possible, she would have burst into tears.

The Countess laughed. It was a hard, bright, joyless sound.

“I didn’t know we were expecting visitors. Am I correct in guessing that you are the great Dr. Pym?”

“I am Stanislaus Pym.”

“May I say, sir, it is an honor to meet you.” She curtsied, a mocking smile playing on her face. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I am here to free the children and reclaim the book you stole.”

“Oh. Oh, oh, oh. I’m afraid that’s going to be difficult. You see, the children will all be dead in a few minutes; afterward you’re certainly welcome to their corpses, I won’t stop you there. As for the
Atlas
 … No, this is simply not going to work. May I offer you a glass of wine instead?”

“I did not come to play games. I will give you one last chance.”

The Countess giggled and gave a little hop. “Or what? Or what? Tell me! What will you do?”

“I will be forced to destroy you.”

The Countess made a shocked
ooooooohhhh
face and clapped her hands over her mouth.

“Katrina, did you hear? Did you hear what the awful man said? Well, you drive a hard bargain, Doctor. I guess I have no choice.” The Countess picked up the book, proffering it in her small white hands. “Here. Take it, you beast.”

Dr. Pym raised his hand, and the book inched toward him. Just then shadowy claws leapt out of the dark corners of the room, clamping on to his arms and legs and pinning him to the wall. Instinctively, Kate tried to run to him, but the invisible force held her where she was. She watched as Dr. Pym struggled but was also held fast.

“Oh, poo! Is it over? After all the stories one hears about the great wizard, mysterious powers, tra-la-la, I confess I feel cheated. But I guess everything in life is a bit disappointing, isn’t it?”

Kate stared in disbelief. Was that it? Had Dr. Pym really lost?

The Countess turned to the table, setting down the book and pouring herself a glass of wine. She was humming. She clearly meant to savor her triumph.

“I know what you’re thinking, Doctor dear. How will my master react when he learns I plan to steal his prize? Well, he won’t be happy, I’ll tell you that. But never you worry; once I’ve wriggled free the secrets in these pages, I will be as powerful as he.”

“Hag, you are a fool.”

She pouted. “Not nice.”

“You have no idea of the depths of his power. Or, may I say, mine.”

“Grandfather, if you’re trying to anger me so I kill you more quickly, I promise it will work.”

To Kate’s amazement, Dr. Pym smiled. “You truly believe it possible he doesn’t know what you’re planning? That you could have one single thought he hasn’t anticipated? You were doomed from the first moment.”

Something like fear flashed across the Countess’s face. But she shook it off.

“You are funny! Isn’t he funny? But I think you forget, Mr. Funny-Man-with-Your-Funny-Eyebrows—which you should really consider trimming,
quelle horreur
—I have more than the
Atlas:
I have the girl. Soon, I will have her brother and sister. With them will come the other Books, and then even my master will bow before me. The prophecy is coming true,
mon oncle
, and there is nothing you or he can do to stop it.”

She raised her glass in a toast and drained off her wine.

Kate’s mind was racing. A prophecy? What prophecy? And what had the Countess meant, “Soon, I will have her brother and sister. With them will come the other Books”? She felt dizzy, as if, despite the Countess’s spell, she might suddenly tumble over onto the floor.

“Oh, lambkins, I see confusion in your young eyes. Has the mean old wizard not explained what fate has in store for you?” She wagged her finger at Dr. Pym. “Shame on you, keeping the poor girl in the dark.”

“Witch, I forbid you—”

“You forbid me? What a laugh! No, no, it is high time Katrina found out why she and her siblings are children of destiny. I wager you haven’t even told her what the Books are capable of! Well, my dove”—she skipped across the room and leaned her head close to Kate’s, as if they were two schoolgirls exchanging secrets—“do you remember the night you arrived, how I explained the history of the Books of Beginning? How there were three Books into which an ancient council of wizards wrote down the secret magics that brought this whole world of ours into being? No need to nod—you couldn’t anyway—I see you do remember.

“Well,
mon ange
, let us think for a moment: if this magic was used to create the world once, a person might reasonably ask, why couldn’t that same magic be used again? The answer is, it could! That is what is so tantalizing! With the power in the Books of Beginning—one of which, the
Atlas of Time
, you so graciously brought to me, I thank you for that, the other two are still out there somewhere, waiting—with the Books’ power a person could simply wad up all of existence like a poorly done sketch and begin afresh with a new sheet of paper!”

“And only a mad person would even imagine doing such a thing,” Dr. Pym said.

The Countess groaned. “Has he always been so tedious? Of course you wouldn’t destroy the world on a whim! Though you certainly could. For instance, say you wanted a world where everyone wore red hats? Using the power of the Books, you would simply get rid of this world and create a new one where red-hat-wearing was de rigueur. Or green hats or blue hats or really whatever-colored hats you wished!”

“Totally and completely mad,” Dr. Pym said.

“Or you could create a world where every creature lives and breathes solely to serve you. I think you begin to see, my sweet Kat, why the search for the Books of Beginning has consumed so many lives. It is the promise of ultimate power. Which leads us”—she brought her face even closer—“to the reason you and your brother and sister are so dreadfully important.”

In the corner of her vision, Kate saw that Dr. Pym’s eyes were half closed and his lips moving.

“Long ago,” the Countess whispered, “at a time when the Books had not been seen for a thousand years, it was foretold that three children would one day find the Books and bring them together. Yes, three children! One for each volume! You see, my dear, you and Michael and little Emma are the key.” She touched a soft hand to Kate’s cheek. “I’m afraid your journey is far from over.”

Kate didn’t have to glance at Dr. Pym for confirmation. She knew, on some deep, instinctual level, that the Countess was telling the truth. It explained so much. Like how she’d been able to open the vault under the Dead City. A dwarf-made door locked with enchantments and yet she, a normal human girl, had been able to open it easily? How was that possible unless the person who’d sealed the door—that is, Dr. Pym—knew she was coming? And how would he have known she was coming unless there’d been a prophecy? A prophecy also explained why they’d been sent away from their parents. Someone looking for the Books—perhaps even the Countess’s master—must’ve figured out who she and Michael and Emma were! Kate could imagine the danger, the terror her parents must’ve felt. Of course they let Dr. Pym take their children. Kate could almost hear the wizard promising, “I’ll hide them. They’ll be safe.” It suddenly all made sense.

“But enough of this,” the Countess said. “It’s time to kill this silly old wizard—”

She turned and raised her hand.

Just then, an icy wind blew through the cabin. It rattled the china and set the chandelier swinging. It seemed to Kate to cut her to her very bones.

“What’re you doing?” The Countess advanced on Dr. Pym. “Stop it! I command you!”

“My dear, it isn’t me.” And as he spoke, the lights flickered again and went out. For a moment, everything was still. Silent. Then, in the darkness, Kate heard the far-off sound of a violin. The song it played was beautiful, ancient, chilling, and it was growing louder.

“He is coming,” the wizard said. “The Dire Magnus is coming.”

Emma would not look up. Gabriel had given her a job, and that was all that mattered. Everything else, the shrieks, the grunts, the thuds of blows, of bodies hitting wood, she shut out, along with the knowledge of how much Gabriel had already fought that day and how tired he must be. Gabriel had given her a job, and she would not fail.

The stairs had been built directly into the side of the gorge, and she ran down them, flight after flight, till she was even with the six green orbs that formed a glowing dotted line along the front wall of the dam. There were tiers of narrow catwalks built into the wooden face, and Emma leapt onto one and raced across, feeling the emptiness all around her, the mountain of water pressing to get in, trying desperately to ignore the sounds of the battle that was raging above. She stopped in the dead center of the dam.

Up close, she saw that the mines were composed of two parts. There was a glass egg the size of a grapefruit, in which the green-yellow gas swirled and flowered ominously, and this was nestled in a circular metal base, which was itself stuck to the wall of the dam by a grayish putty. Emma stared at the first mine, wondering what she was supposed to do. Couldn’t Gabriel have given her a hint? How was she supposed to know how to defuse a mine? No one had ever taught her that in school. Her classes had all been about useless things like math or geography. As she stood there, it seemed to her that the gas was changing colors, taking on a dark, orangish hue. That, she decided, was probably not good. She briefly contemplated just smashing the egg, but considering that whatever this thing was, it was supposed to explode, she thought that might not be the greatest plan. It occurred to her that Michael would know what to do. He’d probably read all about defusing mines and could make you a diagram in his stupid little notebook. She wasted a few moments being angry as she imagined Michael parading around with another medal given to him by that annoying dwarf king, till finally, no other ideas presenting themselves, she reached out and placed her hands on the egg.

It was warm to the touch, and she could feel the thinness of the glass. Too much pressure and it would certainly crack. Closing her eyes, Emma gave a gentle tug. The egg didn’t budge. She pulled harder. The egg remained firmly attached to the metal base and the base to the wall. Emma took a deep breath and prepared to pull with all her strength. Before she could, something happened. Searching for a better grip, her left hand dropped an inch, and the egg moved.

Carefully, Emma turned the entire egg counterclockwise. There was a dull scraping as glass rubbed against metal, but soon Emma saw that there were grooves etched into the lower part of the egg, and she turned it more quickly. Moments later, she was holding the egg in her hands. Free of the metal base, the glass began to cool, and the vapor lost its threatening hue, shifting from orange to yellow to green and, finally, becoming clear and disappearing entirely.

The metal part’s heating it up, Emma thought.