Jimmy the Hand (30 page)

Jimmy pushed
himself back into the saddle, and started his rocking motion for a
trot. He was about to try another gallop, when the horse crested a
rise.

Beyond the next
hill was a large, fortified manor house—practically a
castle—with a moat around it; it lay among rather
neglected-looking gardens and there was a low wall around those with
a wrought-iron gate at the end of a lane that gave off from the main
road. The two men headed for it like lost chicks to a mother hen.

Jimmy pulled up
suddenly, or perhaps his horse did. He could feel a wrongness, almost
exactly as if something very dead and very cold had drawn a hand down
his spine and then pushed the hand inside him to clutch at his gut.
He yelped without volition and the horse whinnied in protest, then
suddenly he found himself headed back towards Land’s End at a
gallop without any instructions he could remember. It was only with
difficulty that he managed to pull up, leaning back in the saddle,
bracing his feet in the stirrups and hauling down until the horse’s
mouth nearly touched its chest.

He looked
around, panting, and Coe was right on his heels, looking pale and
grim, if more in command of his mount.

‘What was
that?’ the young thief asked. ‘Ruthia, what
was
that?’

It was a long
moment before the older man answered. ‘I don’t know,’
he said. He gave Jimmy a quick look. ‘It’s good to know I
wasn’t the only one to feel it, though.’ He took a deep
breath and let it out slowly. ‘We should get out of here in
case they send someone out looking for us. I’m fairly certain I
could handle those two brigands, but I’m not willing to take on
a dozen household guardsmen.’ He started down the road, then
looked over his shoulder. ‘You staying?’

Jimmy looked at
him, then back toward the manor house. ‘No sir,’ he said
and followed.

‘Where
have you been? I wanted him here last night!’

Rip didn’t
recognize the voice. It sounded like a very crabby old man. He felt
funny, like when he had been sick last winter and slept all the time.
He felt too warm and too wrapped up but when he thought to move, he
discovered he was too tired to do anything about it. He couldn’t
be bothered even to open his eyes. Besides, his hands wouldn’t
move, and his feet were tucked under him and he just couldn’t
seem to think of what to do next. But he could listen.

‘Sorry,
m’lord. But the boy’s place was a long way away. We left
Land’s End at dawn this morning, sir.’ This was the
growly voice he’d been hearing lately. He’d never heard
him sounding so nice before.

‘Dawn you
say! And it took you half a day to get here! Did you carry your horse
on your back? Did you walk on your hands like a mountebank? Five
hours!’

‘Well but,
sir, if we was too late by not ‘aving ‘im ‘ere last
night wot does it matter if we babied the ‘orses this mornin’?
The poor creatures is that tired, me lord.’

That last was
the weasel voice, or so Rip thought of it. And even now he didn’t
sound nice, but wheedling and whining and nasty.

‘Impudence!’
cried the old man. There was the muffled sound of someone being
clouted. ‘Take your money and go!’

There was a
clinking sound muffled somewhat, like coins in a sack dropping to the
ground. Then there was a silence that went on too long. Rip shifted
uncomfortably and wished everyone would shut up and go away.

‘Thank ye,
sir,’ the growly voice said at last.

Rip felt himself
lifted, and sensed he was being carried. It wasn’t
uncomfortable and this person wasn’t talking, which was a
relief. He heard the click of a lock being undone, then a door being
opened. Then more walking, followed after a while by the sound of
another door being unlocked. Then he felt himself being lowered onto
something soft. He relaxed and settled down to sleep at last.

Rip woke as if
swimming up from a dark place. He blinked and stirred, not knowing
where he was. Then he felt a presence and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

‘He’s
awake!’

Rip’s eyes
opened in surprise. A girl with dark eyes and curly brown hair was in
front of him. She seemed a year or two older than Rip, though she was
petite enough she wasn’t a half-head taller. She grinned. ‘I’m
Neesa,’ she said. ‘Who are you?’

He was in a
room—a big room, bigger than his family’s whole house!
And the bed was big too, bigger than Ma and Da’s bed, with
smooth sheets. There were hangings on the wall, cloth with pictures
in them, pictures like old stories.

He was taken
completely by surprise when a boy roughly his own age hopped up on
the bed and began jumping up and down.

‘What’s
yer name? What’s yer name? What’s yer
name?’
the boy shouted gleefully.

‘Stop
that, Kay!’ an older girl said, giving the boy a shove that
knocked him onto his back. ‘You know what it feels like when
you wake up.’

Kay giggled,
ignoring the girl’s glare. She offered Rip a clay cup.
‘Thirsty?’ she asked.

Rip nodded, took
the cup and upended it, drinking its contents down in a few big
gulps. It was some sort of fruit juice, but not like apple cider;
more like berries.

He gasped for
air and said, ‘Thanks.’

‘I was
thirsty it seemed like forever,’ the girl said. ‘I’m
Amanda. My family calls me Mandy.’ She was older than Rip,
looking to be almost as old as Lorrie, but unlike his sister, Mandy
was a solemn-looking girl, with bright blonde hair and pale blue
eyes.

‘Rip,’
he said by way of introduction. ‘Where am I?’

The room he was
in had stone walls under the cloth; he felt a moment’s awe at
how much of the fancy cloth there was. He knew how long Ma and Lorrie
had to work to make even enough for a new shirt.

The stones
neatly shaped into blocks, not like the stones in the fireplace at
home. People in funny clothes riding horses rippled in a draught; it
wasn’t really very warm, and there was a queer musty smell to
the air he didn’t much like. The bed, he looked around—no,
beds—had lots of covers. His even had a roof on it, like a
fancy tent.

‘You’re
in my bed,’ Mandy said. Not that she was going to kick him out
of it immediately, but like she was just letting him know he couldn’t
stay forever.

‘Are we in
a castle?’ Rip asked. He couldn’t think of anywhere else
that had stone walls.
And—that word Emmet told me in the
story ofKing Akter—tapestries! Yes, those are tapestries! And
kings live in castles of stone.

Mandy shrugged.
‘I suppose it’s a castle.’

‘We can’t
go out,’ Neesa said. She glanced around and put her arms around
herself, as if cold.

‘Sometimes
they come and take someone,’ Kay said. He lowered his voice to
a whisper, ‘And they never come back.’

Rip looked
around. He didn’t know what had happened, why he wasn’t
safe at home with his parents. He was frightened. ‘Maybe their
mothers and fathers come and take them home,’ he said
hopefully.

Kay’s face
screwed up into a mean little knot. ‘You just got here! You
don’t know anything!’ He hopped off the bed and ran over
to one of the other beds, flopping down and turning his back to them.
Rip could hear sobbing as Kay cried into the covers.

Rip softly said,
‘I want my mummy and daddy.’ Tears welled up in his eyes.
Mandy watched him for a moment, then leaned close to him and put her
arm around his shoulders. ‘He’s just scared. They take
more boys. I’ve been here a long time and they’ve taken
away four boys.’ Lowering her voice even more, she tapped the
side of her head with a finger. ‘Kay’s not quite right.
He’s Neesa’s age, ten, but he acts like he’s five.’
She lowered her voice even more. ‘Neesa’s not right
either. She sees things and hears things.’ Rip was surprised to
learn Kay was ten years old. He didn’t look it, or act it.

Rip was sturdy
and tough for seven. He had been around when his father had butchered
animals and had helped his sister dress out rabbits she hunted. His
nature was to get quiet and withdrawn rather than to cry or complain;
softly he said, ‘I’m scared.’

Mandy patted him
on the shoulder. ‘We’re all scared, boy. Are you hungry?’
she asked.

‘Food will
help,’ Neesa said. Her eyes were bright and she nodded.

Rip sat all the
way up and scrunched forward until he was able to put his feet over
the edge of the bed, where he swayed dizzily before flopping over
onto his back.

Mandy sighed and
got up. ‘Stay there. I’ll bring you something.’

‘Maybe I
shouldn’t,’ he said, feeling queasy again.

‘Did you
eat today?’ she asked him.

‘I don’t
know.’ He frowned. He couldn’t remember anything except
an occasional comment in the dark by Growly or Weasel. Where were his
father and mother? He couldn’t feel Mother at all, that was
strange. It was like when he lost a tooth and there was a space there
before the new tooth came in. Maybe this time there wouldn’t be
a new thing coming. Lorrie? He reached for her and felt, very faint
and far away, an echo of her presence. Maybe he was just too far away
from his mother to feel her. But something told him that wasn’t
the case. It felt like memory, but without the pictures and sounds
that came with remembering.

‘Where’s
your mother?’ he asked Mandy.

She dropped the
plate of smoked meat, cheese and apples into his lap, giving him a
cold look. ‘We don’t talk about them,’ she said.

‘Why not?’
he asked, reasonably enough, he thought.

‘That’s
your bed,’ she said, pointing to a bed in the corner.

Rip knew that
she was telling him to get lost. He slid off the edge of the tall bed
carefully and stood, unsure for a moment if he was going to fall
down. ‘Don’t be angry,’ he said. ‘I don’t
understand.’ He shook his head. ‘Why are we here? Where
are we? I just want to know what’s going on.’

‘Go sit on
your own bed and eat,’ Mandy snapped. She hopped onto her bed
and sat hugging her knees, glaring at him over them. Rip could see
her eyes shine, as if she was trying not to cry.

Puzzled, and a
little hurt, Rip went over to the bed in the corner and sat down. He
hung his head over the plate so that they couldn’t see the
tears running down his cheeks and stuffed a hunk of meat into his
mouth. He didn’t want to cry, but he couldn’t help it.
Even when Lorrie was mad at him, she didn’t treat him like
this, like he just didn’t matter.

‘We don’t
know anything,’ Kay said into the heavy silence, his crying fit
over. ‘Nobody will talk to us. They bring us food, but they
don’t say a word. They only come to bring us food and water and
to clean up.’

‘Or to
bring someone or to take someone away,’ Mandy added. ‘That’s
all we know.’

‘But we
think . . .’ Kay began.

‘We think
our parents are dead,’ Mandy said.

‘No!’
Neesa shouted, her face red with anger as she slapped Mandy’s
arm.

‘Ow! Get
off my bed, right now!’ Mandy said and gave the younger girl a
shove.

Neesa fell to
the floor and began to cry. Kay rolled his eyes and pulled the pillow
over his head, while Mandy crossed her arms and ignored them. Rip put
his plate aside. He.went over and put his arms around the girl and
she clung to him, weeping as if her heart would break.

‘I don’t
want my daddy and mummy to be dead,’ she wailed.

‘Maybe
they’re all right,’ Rip said, trying to reassure her. ‘We
don’t know.’

She sniffed and
looked up at him, then nodded. ‘Yes, maybe they’re all
right.’ She pushed herself up to her feet. She gave him a brief
smile and crossed over to her bed, where she gathered up a roll of
cloth and brought it back with her. She sat beside him and began
vigorously rocking the bundle in her arms while singing loudly.

At least
she’s singing,
Rip thought. It was tuneless and wordless,
but he thought it was supposed to be a lullaby and the roll of cloth
a baby. He stood up and went back to his bed and his meal.

The cheese was
wonderful: soft and mild in flavour, with a slightly nutty taste.
He’d never tasted anything like it before and he looked around
the plate greedily for another piece.

Two days later
Rip woke up determined to escape his luxurious prison. He was too
young to recognize that he had been drugged, but he knew something
had changed since he woke. He was scared, and missed his family, but
sensing Lorrie out there somewhere reassured him. But he knew,
somehow, that his only hope of ever seeing his family again was to
run away.

He didn’t
like any of the other children. Well, he didn’t dislike Neesa,
but she was very annoying most of the time. She was always singing.
The first night he’d been unable to sleep because she never
stopped. So he went over to her and asked her to shut up. Then he
realized that she was sound asleep and still singing!

Mandy had rolled
over and said, ‘She does that all the time. You’ll get
used to it.’

But he did not
think he would. And he absolutely hated Kay. He might be bigger and
older, but like Mandy said, he acted like half his age. If he didn’t
get out of here soon, Rip was sure he was going to try to kill Kay.
He was a biter and a pincher and he liked to sneak up on you and do
one or both. Rip had punched Kay in the stomach once, already, so
hard Kay had almost thrown up, and had sat on the floor gasping for
breath for a long time. Still, it didn’t seem to matter. Kay
would stay away for a while, maybe an hour, then he’d pinch and
run, trying to hide under the bed. He didn’t bother Mandy or
Neesa the way he did Rip, so Mandy must have taught him to leave them
alone. But now Rip knew he was going to have to beat Kay to get him
to stop, and Rip didn’t want to beat anyone; he just wanted to
go home. Besides, he didn’t know if he could beat Kay up,
unless he somehow got on top of him.