The Stolen Child (33 page)

“Miss Barnes,”
h
e said, his gaze settling on Rachael.  “My father
will
see you now.”

As they were brought inside, Micah took Arsha's hand and lead her away.  Rachael
was left alone with Dayaram, struggling to match his long strides as he lead her down a corridor flanked by doors on both sides and decorated with elaborate tapestries.  She had little time to take in the artistry as they moved past, but
Rachael
couldn't help but notice that most of the tapestries seemed to depict strangely fantastical beings; a man with a body made from cogs and gears, a floating cape with the suggestion of a body within, an androgynous figure holding up a needle and thread, and a lithe woman whose body seemed to be carved
of
jade all caught her eye, though briefly.

Distracted, as she tried to catch glimpses of the images they passed, she was caught by surprise as Dayaram stopped at a door and tapped lightly.

“Come in,”
a
voice called
out
,
less a request than a command.
 

Dayaram turned the handle and held the door
open,
ushering her in.  Swallowing, her throat unbearably dry, she stepped through
into a study
that was
too large to seem cosy, but dimly lit in a way that felt warm and enclosed.  The walls were lined with bookshelves
and tapestries.  A pair of wing-backed
chairs
were
set in front of a fireplace, where a few large logs glowed a steady red.

In
one
chair, facing slightly away from her as she entered, an old man sat with his eyes fixed on the glowing embers.  His
thinning hair
flowed
down over his shoulders in
neatly brushed
silver waves,
and his grey beard was thick and well groomed
.  He wore
a long, loose fitting tunic and pyjama trousers of white linen
.  His
bare feet were
propped up on a small footstool, toes wiggling in front of the fire.

He looked up as she entered and smiled warmly.  She heard the door close and looked back
to see that Dayaram was still with them.
 

“
Ah, Miss Barnes, welcome.  
Please, please, sit down,”
t
he old man said, gesturing at the chair opposite his.  
His voice had a hoarse, soft quality to it.
 

S
he took a seat,
as
Dayaram
knelt by the fire
to add some fresh wood.  Sheets of red and orange flame leapt up from the grate, and a crackling sound filled the room.
 

“Ah, that's better,”
t
he old man said.  There was a kindly note to his voice, as he folded his hands across his lap and basked in the warmth of the fire for a moment.

Dayaram
moved to the small table between them, where a large silver tea tray had been set down.

“
Tell me, my dear, do you take milk and sugar?
”
the old man said, with a genial air.
 

For a moment she said nothing, watching his expression as he patiently waited for her answer, willing that placid mask to crack.  The fire
popped and hissed
, and she heard the gentle chiming of a silver teaspoon against the sides of the cup as
Dayaram
prepared his father's tea.

“Ah, thank you,
Darry
.  You really should have let the servants handle this, my boy.  You do trouble yourself so.”

“It's no trouble father.”

Accepting the cup, the old man turned to look at her again.

“Milk.  No sugar,”
s
he said, stiffly.

“No sugar?  Well there's a surprise,”
h
e said, smiling at his son.  “A child who doesn't have a sweet tooth.  
You know, m
y
boy Rakesh
takes three sugars in his tea, and against all reason he's still as thin as a rail.  
He gets that from his mother's side of course, just like his brother here.
”  
H
e sighed, gently.  “
Poor Naveen
takes after my
self
.  No wonder he exercises so much.”  

The old man gave his son another warm smile, and patted the man's
arm
gently.  

“Now, why don't you give us a little time alone, eh?”

“Just call if you need anything father.”

“As always.”

Dayaram
turned and swept out of the room, closing the door softly behind himself as the old man sipped his tea.

“Ah, that boy.  He'll smother me with love.”

“Yeah.  It's really touching,” Rachael said, trying not to sound too sardonic.

“Oh it's
quite
alright my dear,
you needn't pretend to feel anything other than contempt for me
.  I extend you these courtesies because I am an old man and it pleases me to do so.  You're quite welcome to take that cup and throw it at the wall if you'd prefer.  
I'm sure the thought crossed your mind.
”  

He wiggled his eyebrows conspiratorially at her.  For a moment her fingers t
ightened
around the handle of the tea-cup, which rattled against the saucer.  She watched a little trickle of tea spill down the side and pool in the saucer.

Gently, with great care, she set the cup and saucer down on the table and moved her hands to her lap.  Manindra said nothing, but Rachael caught his self indulgent smile as he sipped his tea again.

“Thank you, by the way, for agreeing to speak with me.  I do appreciate having a chance to clear the air a little.  Ah, manners.  I haven't even introduced myself.”  

He set the cup down, and folded his hands across his belly.  

“I am
Lord
Manindra Bhandari
of House Bhandari
, and I am quite delighted to meet you young lady.  You have, I must say, caused more than a little bit of a stir around here.”

“Is that what you call it when your boys try to kill someone.”

“
Ah, so dramatic.  
It was only your companion
we
tried to kill, my dear.  We had no intention of harming you in any way.  You
a
re far too valuable.  
For all his remarkable talents, t
he boy was expendable, and something of a problem I'm afraid.  I have little sympathy for problems.”  

Manindra smiled as he spoke, but there was an edge to his tone, like a razor.  Perfectly precise.  He was trying to get a rise out of her, she knew.  As soon as
Rachael
saw it, she felt a coolness spread through her, as she settled in a familiar space, where the thinking part of her seemed to have stepped back from what was happening, watching from a distance.  It was difficult, to keep her hands from forming fists, keep her expression from turning to a snarl, but she forced the anger down, buried under an icy coldness that seemed to numb her whole body.

Instead of meeting his gaze, she let her eyes wander about the room.  The tapestries depicted the same figures she'd seen out in the hallway, but one in particular drew her attention.  A woman whose body seemed to be comprised entirely of golden leaves, her face concealed behind a white porcelain mask that left only the mouth and chin exposed.  Rachael felt a shudder of recognition, as she remembered a ride in an empty train carriage that seemed a lifetime ago.  She could almost hear a voice like dry leaves whispering her name again.
 

“
Fascinating, aren't they?” Manindra said.  There was a curious softness to his tone.  “I wonder, how much has Chandra told you?”
 

Rachael scowled, and Manindra's eyebrows rose a little.
 

“
Not enough, I suspect,” he added.  As the old man continued to gaze at the figures, her curiosity finally got the better of her.
 

“
What are they?”
 

“
We call them the Dreamwalkers, though they've had many names throughout the ages.  They are ancient, as old as human civilisation.  These depictions have been found throughout the ruins of the Ur.”
 

He seemed to notice her look of confusion.
 

“
The first people,” he continued.  “Or at least, the oldest recorded civilisation, and certainly the first to find the means to travel beyond the Hearth, and out here into the Borderlands.  There is much we still don't know about our oldest history, but we
do know that after the Ur discovered the ways, they left the Hearth behind, and we suspect it was they who created the Veil, in order to prevent anyone from following them.”
 

Manindra's eyes remained on the tapestry for a moment longer, before he turned to regard her again.
 

“I suppose you'd like to know why I asked to speak with you?”  
he
said, taking another sip of his tea.

Rachael shrugged.

“Because this is the part where you tell me your evil plan, right?  That's what
bad guys
are supposed to do,
right?
”

She was actually surprised when the old man burst out laughing.  Tea slopped over his hands and he carefully set the cup down, smiling as he wiped himself clean with a small white
handkerchief
.

“Oh my.  You're blunt.  I like that,” he said, with a gleeful smile.  “Well then, if you must know my dear, my evil scheme is thus.  Having learned of the present danger through some close allies of my own,
I sent my boys to London to find
and capture
you, preferably before you could
awaken one of the Seeds in the middle of the city you call home
, and unleash a nightmare on untold millions of innocents.”

Despite the lightness in his tone, there was a cold edge to Manindra's expression.  Some hard and sharp, like a knife.  She forced herself to meet his gaze, in spite of how badly she wanted to look away.
 

“
R
ight, because you're
so big on caring about other people
.”

He shook his head, sadly.
 

“
Do you really still think in such simple terms?  I will gladly admit that I did all these things for purely selfish reasons
.  
Gaining control of the Seed would have allowed me immeasurable influence with the Guild Council.
 
Of course, in doing so you
would have been spared the awful responsibility of destroying an entire city.  So tell me, precisely what harm would have been done if I had succeeded in my nefarious
plan
?”

“Your men attacked us,”
she replied, struggling not to sound petulant.
  “They had guns, and... That thing.  That animal.”

“
None of which would have been necessary if you had not proven to be such a remarkably elusive quarry, young lady.”
 

“You didn't have to...”
she began, before he cut her off, coldly.
 

“Yes.  We did.  
You should be thankful that I consider you so invaluable a resource, my dear.  Had the Inquisition found you first, they might well have placed far greater importance on preventing you from ever reaching the Seed in the first place.  Perhaps the bullet that found your shifter friend might have been aimed at you instead.
”

A sick sensation roiling in her stomach, Rachael swallowed hard, trying not to let the queasiness show.
 

“
Maybe it should have,” she said, quietly.
 

Manindra shook his head and looked down at his cup.

“
Well, what's done is done
.  What I want,
my dear,
is the
Seed
.  C
ontrolling
it would stop the danger it poses, and would grant me a powerful bargaining tool.  My own motives may be of no interest to you, but perhaps you might take this chance to undo the harm to the city that raised you.  If you
were to refuse Professor Chandra's offer of adoption... If you willingly give yourself over my care
... I have the resources and the knowledge to
close
the
rift and safely contain the seed itself
.  All we need is you.”

“And what happens after that?”

“You remain in my care.  You are too valuable, and too dangerous, to be granted freedom.  But I can
keep you from falling into the hands of the Inquisition, who will, I imagine, see you as little more than a curiosity to be studied.  You will live here on my estate as my ward.  I cannot imagine you will want for anything.
”

“
Yeah, no thanks mate.  I'll pass.”
 

“
Tell me, do you really imagine you have much choice in this matter?”
 

Rachael said nothing, deciding it was better to hold her tongue as Manindra watched her with a pitying expression.
 

“
Ah, but of course, you still imagine you have a third option.  Rishi hasn't told you.”
 

“
Told me what?” Rachael said, eyes narrowing.
 

Manindra sighed, heavily.
 

“
That was cruel of him, to let you hold on to a false hope.”
 

Still regarding him with a wary gaze, Rachael held her tongue, waiting to see what the old man had to say for himself.
 

“
The young man who was with you in London… Doubtless he told you that you were connected to the Dreamwalkers in some fashion.  To one, in particular I imagine.”
 

As Rachael tried to mask her surprise, Manindra turned to regard the tapestries again.
 

“
The Lady of The Falling Leaves,” he said, casting a glance back in her direction.  “You recognised her image.  Tell me, did he offer to take you to her?  Was the Seed perhaps to be your means of finding her realm?”