you think?”
Alfy, still asleep, made a weak joke about playing in the sunrise with the hippies in Kirby Lonsdale, at which Gertie expressed
her disgust. The smell of coffee filled the room, followed by the acrid smell of burning toast. Alf preferred his breakfast
black.
I saw Dad off and went back out onto the common for a minute. I climbed the hill so that I would see the last of his car,
waved, and began to ascend again. Which was when the earth shuddered. Then stop. Then shudder again. Then shake.
As I got to the house, the earth tossed me up and threatened to throw me into the wall before I could get through the gate.
I was winded and scared. More explosions from the cavers, was my first thought. They’d gone too far. My second thought was
earthquake. I tried to remember how you were supposed to respond in such circumstances. I only knew what we’d been told to
do in the hotel, on ourtrip to Disneyland, about getting under a secure beam and so forth.
I suddenly felt myself slipping, as if the ground had tilted beneath my feet, and I knew I was sliding towards the mouth of
what we sometimes called Claffam’s Cave—not a real cave at all, but a deep indent in the grass-covered limestone. I could
hardly make out the grassy bottom. How had it happened that one moment I was near our quadrangle door and the next I was sliding
down towards dark, slippery shale. I managed to get a strong grip on a bit of rock and hung on tight, stopping my descent.
The smell of rock dust clogged my nostrils, and I couldn’t get a foothold on anything. I didn’t have the breath to scream.
Surely someone in the house knew what was happening and was taking the proper action.
The shale continued to clatter and hiss past me, and I was shocked to see the foreign-looking man, Paul von Minct, in the
big greatcloak, shaking his dusty head out of the pit below me, his clawlike slate-colored fingers pushing back the shale
as he came upwards, his long, grey face intense in its determination to keep climbing towards me. At last I started screaming.
But nothing came out of my throat. This man, already described as my greatest enemy, was between me and my house. I couldn’t
shout, so I let go of the rock, landed on his face, knocked him over, pushed past him, and was out of the hole and back on
the green of the common. I had lost my bearings. Where was the house? I heard his heavy feet running behind me, and ahead
of me I saw another cave opening. I jumped in to avoid his seeing me, but I could still hear him nearby.
“Miss Oonagh. Could I have a word with you, perhaps?”
I kept my head down.
He must have known I was close enough to hear him. “You have broken the spell,” he snarled. His voice was like the hard bluster
of the wind. “You have shredded the net they put around you. Now you are ours!”
Then came the Puritan, Klosterheim, speaking in tones like a keening, shrieking blade on glass, behind his master. Could anyone
ever forget that grating voice? Or those black and white clothes, straight out of my old nightmares? “You proved your own
will, dear child. Your
own
will. You prefer to be with us …”
That was both so blatantly false and so nonsensical, I found some energy from laughing at it. I managed to stand, see where
I was, spot the house, and start running for it.
To my relief, I saw Monsieur Zodiac beckoning to me from overhead. I had not recognized him before, since he had discarded
the formal English evening dress. Now he looked just as I’d seen him in those old dreams, as if he had stepped out of one
of those Hindu movies I love, with long turban ends and a flowing costume, scarfs and sashes, all of bright, beautiful colors.
Why was he dressed so differently?
A growl from behind me.
“Here!”
There came a single deep note from the rock at his feet, and releasing me he reached down to pick up the black sword.
“Only this blade remains unchanged.”
He gasped and
Alfy, still asleep, made a weak joke about playing in the sunrise with the hippies in Kirby Lonsdale, at which Gertie expressed
her disgust. The smell of coffee filled the room, followed by the acrid smell of burning toast. Alf preferred his breakfast
black.
I saw Dad off and went back out onto the common for a minute. I climbed the hill so that I would see the last of his car,
waved, and began to ascend again. Which was when the earth shuddered. Then stop. Then shudder again. Then shake.
As I got to the house, the earth tossed me up and threatened to throw me into the wall before I could get through the gate.
I was winded and scared. More explosions from the cavers, was my first thought. They’d gone too far. My second thought was
earthquake. I tried to remember how you were supposed to respond in such circumstances. I only knew what we’d been told to
do in the hotel, on ourtrip to Disneyland, about getting under a secure beam and so forth.
I suddenly felt myself slipping, as if the ground had tilted beneath my feet, and I knew I was sliding towards the mouth of
what we sometimes called Claffam’s Cave—not a real cave at all, but a deep indent in the grass-covered limestone. I could
hardly make out the grassy bottom. How had it happened that one moment I was near our quadrangle door and the next I was sliding
down towards dark, slippery shale. I managed to get a strong grip on a bit of rock and hung on tight, stopping my descent.
The smell of rock dust clogged my nostrils, and I couldn’t get a foothold on anything. I didn’t have the breath to scream.
Surely someone in the house knew what was happening and was taking the proper action.
The shale continued to clatter and hiss past me, and I was shocked to see the foreign-looking man, Paul von Minct, in the
big greatcloak, shaking his dusty head out of the pit below me, his clawlike slate-colored fingers pushing back the shale
as he came upwards, his long, grey face intense in its determination to keep climbing towards me. At last I started screaming.
But nothing came out of my throat. This man, already described as my greatest enemy, was between me and my house. I couldn’t
shout, so I let go of the rock, landed on his face, knocked him over, pushed past him, and was out of the hole and back on
the green of the common. I had lost my bearings. Where was the house? I heard his heavy feet running behind me, and ahead
of me I saw another cave opening. I jumped in to avoid his seeing me, but I could still hear him nearby.
“Miss Oonagh. Could I have a word with you, perhaps?”
I kept my head down.
He must have known I was close enough to hear him. “You have broken the spell,” he snarled. His voice was like the hard bluster
of the wind. “You have shredded the net they put around you. Now you are ours!”
Then came the Puritan, Klosterheim, speaking in tones like a keening, shrieking blade on glass, behind his master. Could anyone
ever forget that grating voice? Or those black and white clothes, straight out of my old nightmares? “You proved your own
will, dear child. Your
own
will. You prefer to be with us …”
That was both so blatantly false and so nonsensical, I found some energy from laughing at it. I managed to stand, see where
I was, spot the house, and start running for it.
To my relief, I saw Monsieur Zodiac beckoning to me from overhead. I had not recognized him before, since he had discarded
the formal English evening dress. Now he looked just as I’d seen him in those old dreams, as if he had stepped out of one
of those Hindu movies I love, with long turban ends and a flowing costume, scarfs and sashes, all of bright, beautiful colors.
Why was he dressed so differently?
A growl from behind me.
“Here!”
There came a single deep note from the rock at his feet, and releasing me he reached down to pick up the black sword.
“Only this blade remains unchanged.”
He gasped and
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