Free The High House by James Stoddard Page B

instead of me?” Carter asked. “They have made attempts on my life before.”
    “The High House will have a Master,” Enoch said. “Perhaps you; if not it will choose another. By killing Brittle, who could have taught you much, they have delayed us. They want to overwhelm us before the new Master is ready.”
    “Then I must learn what I can, as quickly as possible. But one thing still troubles me: how did the Thin Man transport us to our rooms? And why?”
    “The why is simple,” Chant said. “To take you beyond the anarchists’ control, so you could wake.”
    “Yes,” Enoch said. “That must be true. And I have known Masters who possessed the power to enter the world of dream and to transport the physical body along the paths of the dream self. It’s difficult and seldom done, but maybe this man has the talent as well.”
    “Intriguing,” Mr. Hope said. “We must learn more of our unknown benefactor.”
    A knock sounded on the door just then, and a hall boy, made timid by having to perform the butler’s services, entered and bowed.
    “Sir, there is a man named Duncan to see you. He was at the funeral today.”
    Carter looked at the others. “Send him in.”
    The man entered, a stout fellow, with eyes cat-green in the firelight. He wore a dark coat, black trousers, and carried a black hat, clothes too fine to suit his weathered face and hands. He was surely older than fifty, and he looked miserably uncomfortable.
    Giving a half bow with his shoulders he said, “I’m Duncan. I’ve come from Naleewuath.”
    Carter started, not having heard that name since the day of his kidnapping. Looking closer, he thought Duncan might appear familiar if fifteen years were taken from his face. Rising, Carter shook his hand and introduced the others. “I believe I remember you, sir. Didn’t you visit my father?”
    “I did. Many years ago. You were only a lad.” The man warmed slightly. “You favor him.”
    “Sit down. Tell us why you have come.”
    He took a chair across from them, facing the fire; the dancing flames made crags of the planes of his face. He smelled vaguely of cedar.
    “Perhaps you remember our story, then,” Duncan said. “Every few years, the wild beasts become too many in Naleewuath. Sheep begin disappearing, and if it isn’t stopped, then children. As we came to your father and the Master before him, we come to you, asking your aid. Bring those you can and help us, as agreed in the treaty between my people and the Inner Chambers.”
    Carter sat silent so long Duncan grew nervous. “My lord, is there anything to consider? We have promised fealty to you in return for your protection. Will you come?”
    “Forgive me,” Carter said. “The name of Naleewuath stirs old memories indeed. The tigers—”
    “Yes,” Duncan said. “Several handfuls of them. You must come.”
    “You realize I am only the Steward, not the Master of the house?”
    “But if there is no Master, the Steward must do. We have waited longer than we should, during the time when there was neither Master nor Steward, while your father was away. It seems he is dead; someone must perform the task. Will you come?”
    “I will come,” Carter said softly, remembering how his father always said those same words before donning his heavy boots, his Tawny Mantle, and his Lightning Sword; and taking up his gnarled walking stick.
    “I thank you, lord,” Duncan said, rising from his chair. Carter shook his hand once more, and saw him out the drawing-room doors.
    “Was that wise?” Hope asked. “With all our troubles should you be going off?”
    But Enoch beamed and said, “Maybe we will have a Master, after all.”
    Carter was too lost in his own thoughts to reply. Without information, without skill, knowing nothing of how his father would have conducted such a mission, still, his heart beat hard against his chest. He was finally going to hunt the Tigers of Naleewuath.
    * * *
    But that night, when the others had gone to bed,