The Monster in the Hollows Read online

  He looked at the window and remembered the voice he had heard that night when the cloven had seen him:I’ll sniff you out. And when I find you I’ll hold you fast. Janner shuddered and curled under his covers again, trying to figure out what it was that unsettled him.

  The next morning while he gobbled his hotcakes and eggs, he noticed two things: Kalmar looked exhausted, and Kalmar wasn’t eating. That he looked tired wasn’t all that surprising. With the T.H.A.G.S., school, chores, and now the night classes of the Durgan Guild, both boys were worn out. Janner had a hard time getting up every morning too.

  But Kalmar wasalways hungry. Wasn’t he? Now that Janner thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time Kal had asked Leeli for the rest of her soup, or snuck a biscuit when Janner wasn’t looking, or been caught in the pantry with a mouthful of muffins.

  That was when Janner realized what had troubled him when he woke in the night. It wasn’t a sound but a silence. He hadn’t heard Kalmar snoring.

  Janner didn’t know what it meant, but he didn’t like how it made him feel.

  36

  Snaphounds and Snowfall

  That day at lunch, the Wingfeather children sat with Joe Bill, Morsha, and Quincy, their friends from the Durgan Guild, along with Thorn and Kelvey O’Sally. A fire roared in the hearth at the head of the room but did little to ease the chill in the rest of the hall, so the guildlings ate with their coats on.

  As soon as they had thanked the Maker for the food, Morsha said, “Did you hear? Last night the patrol figured out what’s been taking the livestock.”

  “What was it?” Janner asked, stopping mid-chew with a mouthful of henmeat casserole. “A ratbadger?”

  “Worse,” Morsha said with relish.

  “I heard too, but I don’t believe it,” Thorn said as he crunched into an apple. “Doesn’t explain the sheep.”

  “Sure it does,” said Kalmar.

  “How doyou know what it was, Kal?” Janner asked, annoyed that he seemed to be the only one at the table who hadn’t heard.

  Kalmar shrugged and popped a sausage link into his mouth. “Someone told me earlier.”

  “I heard about it in the hall after lectures,” Leeli said. “I’m with Thorn. I don’t think it sounds right either.”

  “Somebodyplease tell me what you’re talking about,” Janner said.

  “My ma says she’s seen one up close,” Morsha said, “and it could definitely kill a sheep.”

  “ONE OF WHAT?” Janner shouted.

  All the guildlings at the table leaned back and raised their eyebrows at him, including Leeli and Kalmar.

  “Somebody’s cranky,” Joe Bill muttered as he slathered strawberry sweet sauce on a biscuit.

  “A dog,” said Thorn.

  “Not just a dog,” said Morsha. “A snaphound. Much bigger. Longer teeth.”

  “They’re notthat big,” Kelvey said. “And besides, snaphounds hunt in packs. There was only one set of tracks.”

  “They found tracks?” Janner asked.

  “Oy,” Kelvey said. “Pa told me the Durgan Patrol found a pile of feathers and chicken parts outside of Waverby’s hen coop, along with clear pawprints leading away. They tracked it for miles and miles, clear into the wooded vales, before they lost the trail.”

  “But they didn’t catch it?” Janner asked.

  “Not yet, they didn’t.” Joe Bill slurped the strawberry sauce where it had dripped on his hand. “But they will. The Durgan Patrol are the best trackers on Aerwiar.”

  “Oy!” said Morsha, clinking her mug of ermentine juice against Joe Bill’s. “Durgans!”

  “I still don’t think a dog could do all that,” said Leeli.

  “You don’t know everything about dogs,” Kalmar told her. “I don’t see what’s so strange about a wild dog eating a hen.”

  “Easy, Kal. I think she’s just saying thatone dog couldn’t eat that much livestock,” Thorn said. “And a whole pack of wild dogs sneaking in and taking chickens and hogpiglets and even sheep, all without leaving a trace—well, it’s highly unusual. I’ve never heard of anything like it.”

  “Well, I’m just glad it’s over. They figured it out,” Kalmar said as he cleared his plate, “and now everybody can get back to whatever they were doing before.”

  ***

  That day in Durgan Guild, Clout took a look at the sky and said, “Snow.”

  About thirty minutes later, the sky grayed, the wind picked up, and the first flurries of the year came down in whirls.

  Clout led the guildlings to one of the buildings adjacent to the courtyard and fished a key from one of his pockets. “Snow means it’s time for the next part of your training,” he said as he fit the key into the lock, turned it, and swung open the door. He led the guildlings inside, then slammed the door behind them and plunged them into darkness. “Brosa! Come!”

  “Yes, guildmaster.” Brosa stumbled through the dark, stepping on toes and bumping other students as he tried to find Clout. A match flared to life, illuminating Guildmaster Clout’s scowling face, which was nowhere near where Brosa stood.

  “I’m over here, boy! Take these matches and light the sconces. You’ll find ten of them. Hurry up about it.” As Brosa lit the lanterns and revealed more and more of the room, Clout said, “Welcome to the Sneakery. Built two hundred years ago by the stonewright and woodwright guilds, it’s been the winter training ground for the finest Durgans the Green Hollows has ever known. Here you’ll learn not just to outsmart ridgerunners but also to climb walls, surprise your enemies, gather information, and creep through the Hollows—all without making a sound.”

  Guildmaster Clout folded his arms and surveyed the guildlings, allowing them time to take in what they saw. There were platforms and passageways, low walls with windows, and ladders that led to rope bridges high above. One of the walls was fitted with pegs and little outcroppings for climbing. Everywhere Janner looked, there were ropes, poles, platforms, and a thousand other ways to break an arm or a leg. It was beautiful.

  “Chewbing! Climb to the top of that wall and bring me your weapon of choice. Don’t fall, or your mother will never forgive me.” Chewbing gulped and ran to the wall. “Larnik! You and Morsha head into the tunnel maze and find the exit. The first one there will have half as many laps. Janner! Grab a slingshot and stand guard in the perch up there while the rest of you try to sneak past him. Kalmar! Joe Bill! Ambush whichever of Larnik and Morsha comes out of the tunnel maze first. Try to pin them down and tie them up with that rope over there.”

  Clout gave orders and the guildlings obeyed, unable to conceal their smiles. Janner fetched the slingshot, thinking how silly he was to have ever wanted to join the bookbindery guild.

  The Durgan guildlings climbed and crawled for an hour under Clout’s supervision before he ordered the same drills with the lights out. In the darkness of the windowless Sneakery, guildlings tripped, slipped, and ran into each other so often that in the end they were all scared to move. Janner couldn’t remember the last time he had had so much fun.

  When the horn blew and school ended for the day, Janner and Kalmar emerged from the Sneakery to find that snow had covered the ground. The Green Hollows had turned white.

  They met Nia at the snow-covered statue and waited in the snow for Leeli. When the courtyard had emptied of carriages and Leeli still hadn’t shown up, Nia asked Janner to fetch her from the houndry.

  Just as he hopped down from the carriage, Leeli arrived with a train of dogs harnessed to a houndrick. The wheels had been replaced with runners that glided over the snow with a pleasant hiss. The cart was decorated with ornate swoops of purple and white and bore Leeli’s name in a graceful script. She was rosy-cheeked from the cold and bundled in a brindleskin coat with the hood pulled so tightly around her face that her cheeks bunched up when she smiled. Baxter yipped and stood in the cart beside Leeli with his front paws on the rail.

  “What’s this?” Nia asked.

  “My houndrick.” Leeli clicked her
tongue, and the six dogs sat.

  “Your houndrick?” Nia climbed down from the carriage to inspect it.

  “Thorn and Biggin O’Sally commissioned it from the woodwrightery last month, just for me. It was finished today. They want me to train the houndrick dogs.” She blushed and played with a button on her coat. “They said it was time I had my own rick. They said I was real good.”

  “Really good,” Nia corrected, kicking the runners on the little sleigh to test their strength. “Not ‘real’ good.”

  “That’s just how they talk,” Leeli said.

  “That’s fine for them. Not for a Song Maiden.” Nia mounted the carriage. “It looks solid. Well made. The woodwrightery guildlings did areally good job of it. Now,” she said, making sure the boys were seated, “let’s see how fast it is. Hya!”

  Janner and Kalmar nearly tumbled off their seats when the horses lunged forward. Janner looked over his shoulder at Leeli and waved as they sped away. She looked shocked for a moment, and then Janner saw her mouth move and heard the dogs bay. The snowfall was so thick that Leeli disappeared in swirling curls of white as they passed through the gate, but he could hear the dogs and knew Leeli was close behind.

  Nia laughed as the carriage careened through the streets. Kalmar whooped and crouched on his seat, nose into the wind, howling at the snow. He looked more like a wolf in that moment than Janner had ever seen him, and Janner loved him for it, because in that moment Kalmar didn’t care a hoot what the Hollowsfolk thought.

  The horses were winded by the time they crossed the bridge at the foot of Chimney Hill. Nia reined them in and turned in her seat. “Do you hear her?” she asked, and they all listened. Janner heard nothing but the wind and the trickle of water in the creekbed. Nia’s face fell. “I should go back for her.”

  “Look, Mama.” Kal pointed at two parallel lines in the snow that ran over the bridge and up the hill. “She beat us.”

  When they rounded the bend and climbed up to the front lawn, they found Leeli loosening the straps of the last dog and scratching it behind the ears. Freva greeted Nia and the boys, then led the carriage to the barn, muttering about how much she disliked snow.

  Nia calmly stooped and gathered a pile of snow into a ball. She aimed it at Leeli and let it fly. It hit Leeli in the back and exploded, and she spun around with her mouth hanging open.

  “That’s your prize for winning,” Nia said. She threw another snowball. “And that’s for no reason at all.”

  Kalmar, Janner, and Leeli exchanged a confused look. Janner had no idea what had gotten into his mother, but he sensed that it was a rare moment, one that should be taken full advantage of.

  Kalmar and Leeli were already throwing snowballs at Nia by the time Janner cocked his arm. He paused, struck by how beautiful his mother was. Nia’s bright red scarf was dotted with snowflakes and matched the rosy blooms of her cheeks. The lines at the corners of her eyes were creased with laughter instead of worry, and her teeth glistened while she laughed. He had never seen his mother so fair or so playful, and he doubted it would last. It was a glimpse of who she had been before his father died, before her home had been set on fire, before her kingdom had fallen and her children were hunted. He told himself to write this moment down so he would remember it. Then he hurled the snowball.

  When the four of them were winded and the cold had crept into their boots and collars and sleeves, they sat on the front lawn among the snow-happy dogs.

  “Will the whole winter be like this?” Leeli asked, leaning against a gray hound she called Bounder. “Like Kimera?”

  “No. This much snow is a rare surprise in Ban Rona. Farther east, closer to the mountains and the Blackwood, it sticks to the ground for weeks at a time.”

  “Well, I hope it stays,” Leeli said. “The houndrick is a lot faster with runners than wheels. I don’t think I would have beaten you with the wheels on—not as badly anyway.” She poked her mother’s arm and laughed, but Nia didn’t laugh along. Janner could already tell the moment of lightness was passing.

  “Children,” Nia said, “I need to speak with you about something.”

  The children sat up when they heard the somber tone in her voice.

  “What’s wrong?” Janner asked. “Do we have to leave again?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that.” Nia smiled, but her eyes were strangely sad. “I need to tell you about Rudric and me. We’ve been courting.”

  The three children looked at each other, then at Nia, and burst out laughing.

  “Did you think we didn’t know that?” Kalmar said. “You hardly know we exist when he’s around.”

  “And he’salways around,” Leeli said.

  Nia laughed and shook her head. “I forget how smart you three are. But there’s more.” Her smile vanished and she looked each of them in the eye. Janner thought for a moment that she looked frightened, but then he discounted that idea. Nia Wingfeather was never frightened. “He’s asked me to marry him.”

  In the silence that followed, Janner was surprised to feel a stab of pain in his chest. He knew he should be happy for her. He liked Rudric. But for some reason, when Nia said those words, Janner heard something very different. He heard his mother say,Your father really is dead. He heard her say,I’m letting him go. He heard,We’re never going home. Let Anniera burn. It’s over.

  Tears leapt into Janner’s eyes. He felt his mother’s gaze on him, and it burned his skin. He heard himself sob as he staggered to his feet, and then he ran.

  He ran blindly into the snow, not knowing or caring which direction. His heart erupted with anger and sadness and embarrassment and hurt that he had to put somewhere. So he ran. His cheeks ached with cold. His nose dripped, and he hated the way he sounded, blubbering words that made no sense. He wanted his father to be alive, to love his mother, to make her young again, the way she had been just now. He fell to the ground and convulsed with sobs, heedless of the snow on his face.

  He wanted to be alone, and he wanted to be found. He wanted his family to ignore him, to show their indifference and feed his anger, and at the same time he pleaded to the Maker that they would come and lift him from the frozen ground. And in the middle of it all, he felt the Maker’s presence so palpably that the very wind seemed to be his breath and the snowflakes his touch. Janner knew he was not alone, nor could he be, however far he ran.

  Then he felt hands on his back and arms, and heard Kalmar’s voice in his ear. “I’m here.”

  Kalmar lifted him to a sitting position and studied Janner’s face with eyes that were moist and sad. Janner saw no trace of yellow there. Only blue. “She doesn’t understand, you know. To her, he’s been dead for nine years. But it’s like we just found him this summer, in Uncle Artham’s tree house. And now it’s like he’s dying all over again.”

  Janner wiped his nose and nodded. He was grateful that he didn’t have to explain a thing to his brother. “I just miss him,” he said. “And I know that sounds dumb, since I’m too young to even remember. But he’s so real in my mind sometimes, it’s like he’s still around. Watching over us.”

  “I know,” Kal said. “But he’s not. And Mama’s been alone for nine years.Nine years. Janner, I like her when she’s like this. Lighter, I mean. I think she needs Rudric. He’s like medicine or something.”

  Janner wiped his nose. He cringed at the thought of facing everyone with his snotty face and puffy red eyes. “I should probably go apologize.”

  “Yeah.”

  Janner shivered as a gust of wind cut through his coat and reached every spot that was damp from either tears or snow. “Come on. Aren’t you freezing?”

  Kalmar looked at the flurries as if he had forgotten he was standing in the snow. “I don’t really get cold anymore, Janner. Just hungry.”

  To Janner’s great relief, the main room was empty except for Leeli and Nia. They sat together on the couch, staring at the fire. Janner said, “Sorry,” and another tidal wave of tears came, but this time they were better tears, we
pt into his mother’s arms.

  The three children and their mother talked for a long time by the fire. After a subdued dinner, Janner collapsed into his bunk, thinking about Rudric and his father and how things could hurt and heal at the same time.

  Late that night, Janner woke to the muted sound of someone knocking at the front door. He slipped out of bed and cracked his door to listen and be sure everything was all right. He could tell that everyone was in bed, but the downstairs glowed red from the embers in the fireplace.

  He heard Rudric’s voice outside, followed by a brief howl of wind when Nia opened the door to him. Janner heard the murmur of their voices, and the warmth of their tone, and the rightness of it, and he knew his mother was telling Rudric about what had happened. He heard the words, “I’m sorry, Nia,” and she said, “It’s going to be all right.”

  After several moments, Nia asked, “What are you doing out so late?”

  “I came to say goodbye.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll be gone for a few weeks. Word came from the chief of Ban Hyn that there’s trouble in the Outer Vales. The ridgerunners are active, and there’s rumor of something worse.”

  “What?”

  “Fangs. Two children reported spotting a Grey Fang in their back pasture last night. Farmers all across the hills are scared and angry. They’re demanding action. I’ve mustered my best men, and they await me at the Keep. I hate to go. It’s not always easy, you know, being a Keeper of the Hollows.”

  “Nor is it always easy to love one,” Nia said, and Janner heard a rustle that told him they were embracing. “Be careful, Rudric. Come back soon. We have a wedding to plan.”

  Janner heard a long silence and suddenly felt like he was intruding. He tiptoed back to bed and noticed once again that Kalmar wasn’t snoring. He stood on his bunk and peered into the dark, listening. He saw Kalmar’s form under the blankets but heard no breathing, so he reached out and nudged his brother.