do about it.
He opened the door and went outside into the still night air. It smelled a little different, more acrid. Or was that his imagination? There was no light except for that from a very fitful moon. No red glare of flames. He looked toward the mountain, but there was nothing to see except a heavier, denser blackness where it loomed over them, filling the sky. There were no flames, no scarlet rivers of molten rock.
Perhaps he was making a fuss over nothing very much. It had stirred in its sleep, that was all. A summer thunderstorm might make such noises and, with lightning strikes, probably do more damage. He was making a fool of himself. Not a good example to set.
He turned to go back to his room, glad no one had seen him.
“Signor? Signor Latterly?”
He recognized Stefano’s voice the moment before he saw him in the gloom, just a deeper shadow.
“Stefano? Are you all right?”
“Of course.” Stefano’s voice was low, confident, but there was a note in it that Charles had not heard before. Anxiety? Or just concern for his guests?
“Did the mountain disturb you?” Stefano went on. “I am sorry. Sometimes it makes a noise. Don’t let it worry you.”
“I don’t see anything.” Charles was still facing the mountain, searching for signs of smoke in the sky, a red glow of fire reflected on the clouds above.
“Maybe some fire later.” Stefano was close beside him now. “It shake a little bit. Just want to see nothing has fallen, broken on the ground, you know? Don’t want anyone not looking carefully, and trip.”
“You mean like Bailey?” Charles said with a wry smile.
“He is an unhappy one, that,” Stefano said sadly.
“And determined to make the rest of us the same,” Charles agreed.
“I am sorry…” Stefano sounded as if he felt he was to blame.
“It’s not your fault,” Charles assured him.
“I let him come. This is my house. I want all of you to be happy here. Is good. Is peace. Christmas coming. Time of hope, for everyone.” Stefano was smiling in the darkness, Charles could tell that from the sound of his words, but there was unease in them, too. Was that caused by Walker-Bailey or the mountain?
“Go back to bed, Signor Latterly,” Stefano urged him. “I think there is nothing broken. It was only a little shake. But I make sure. Please, go back to sleep. In the morning it will all be quiet again. Rest, so you can go for a long walk tomorrow, perhaps the other way. You see different sights, yes?”
Charles could hear the pleading in his voice.
“Yes,” he agreed. “Good idea. In every direction there are beautiful things to see. Good night, Stefano.”
“Good night, signor. Sleep well.”
C harles was awoken the second time by an insistent knocking on his door. He opened his eyes and saw that daylight was just beginning to break. There was a pallor to the sky through the window.
The knocking was repeated.
He climbed out of bed, seized his robe, and went to the door.
Roger Finbar stood just outside. He was fully dressed, but looked hastily so. He had no tie on, and his jacket was a trifle rumpled and unfastened. His hair was untidy, as if he had made only a perfunctory attempt to brush it.
But it was his face that arrested Charles’s attention. Even in the dim light of the dawn, he looked haggard and very frail.
“Come in,” Charles said immediately, bracing himself to catch the man’s weight if he should collapse.
“Thank you,” Finbar accepted and followed him inside. His voice was perfectly steady, but what effort that required of him could only be guessed. He sat in the one chair in the room, and Charles sat on the end of the bed, opposite him.
“Are you all right, sir?” Charles asked anxiously. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He had no idea what that might be, but he found himself wishing profoundly that there would be something.
“Yes, there is,” Finbar said with a wry smile. “That is why I have come to disturb you at
He opened the door and went outside into the still night air. It smelled a little different, more acrid. Or was that his imagination? There was no light except for that from a very fitful moon. No red glare of flames. He looked toward the mountain, but there was nothing to see except a heavier, denser blackness where it loomed over them, filling the sky. There were no flames, no scarlet rivers of molten rock.
Perhaps he was making a fuss over nothing very much. It had stirred in its sleep, that was all. A summer thunderstorm might make such noises and, with lightning strikes, probably do more damage. He was making a fool of himself. Not a good example to set.
He turned to go back to his room, glad no one had seen him.
“Signor? Signor Latterly?”
He recognized Stefano’s voice the moment before he saw him in the gloom, just a deeper shadow.
“Stefano? Are you all right?”
“Of course.” Stefano’s voice was low, confident, but there was a note in it that Charles had not heard before. Anxiety? Or just concern for his guests?
“Did the mountain disturb you?” Stefano went on. “I am sorry. Sometimes it makes a noise. Don’t let it worry you.”
“I don’t see anything.” Charles was still facing the mountain, searching for signs of smoke in the sky, a red glow of fire reflected on the clouds above.
“Maybe some fire later.” Stefano was close beside him now. “It shake a little bit. Just want to see nothing has fallen, broken on the ground, you know? Don’t want anyone not looking carefully, and trip.”
“You mean like Bailey?” Charles said with a wry smile.
“He is an unhappy one, that,” Stefano said sadly.
“And determined to make the rest of us the same,” Charles agreed.
“I am sorry…” Stefano sounded as if he felt he was to blame.
“It’s not your fault,” Charles assured him.
“I let him come. This is my house. I want all of you to be happy here. Is good. Is peace. Christmas coming. Time of hope, for everyone.” Stefano was smiling in the darkness, Charles could tell that from the sound of his words, but there was unease in them, too. Was that caused by Walker-Bailey or the mountain?
“Go back to bed, Signor Latterly,” Stefano urged him. “I think there is nothing broken. It was only a little shake. But I make sure. Please, go back to sleep. In the morning it will all be quiet again. Rest, so you can go for a long walk tomorrow, perhaps the other way. You see different sights, yes?”
Charles could hear the pleading in his voice.
“Yes,” he agreed. “Good idea. In every direction there are beautiful things to see. Good night, Stefano.”
“Good night, signor. Sleep well.”
C harles was awoken the second time by an insistent knocking on his door. He opened his eyes and saw that daylight was just beginning to break. There was a pallor to the sky through the window.
The knocking was repeated.
He climbed out of bed, seized his robe, and went to the door.
Roger Finbar stood just outside. He was fully dressed, but looked hastily so. He had no tie on, and his jacket was a trifle rumpled and unfastened. His hair was untidy, as if he had made only a perfunctory attempt to brush it.
But it was his face that arrested Charles’s attention. Even in the dim light of the dawn, he looked haggard and very frail.
“Come in,” Charles said immediately, bracing himself to catch the man’s weight if he should collapse.
“Thank you,” Finbar accepted and followed him inside. His voice was perfectly steady, but what effort that required of him could only be guessed. He sat in the one chair in the room, and Charles sat on the end of the bed, opposite him.
“Are you all right, sir?” Charles asked anxiously. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He had no idea what that might be, but he found himself wishing profoundly that there would be something.
“Yes, there is,” Finbar said with a wry smile. “That is why I have come to disturb you at
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