“Isn’t he beautiful?” squealed Emily, kneeling to tickle his chin. She loved animals of all descriptions, and her greatest regret was that the aunts wouldn’t let her keep pets. The enormous cat was almost eye to eye with her. “Miaow?” he said plainly, and that is just what it sounded like: a miaow said by a person imitating a cat. Kate shook her head and stared hard at the giant feline as if he were a puzzle she needed to solve. Something needed explaining here. Perhaps she was just dreaming?
“Oh, scat, Seylin!” scolded Agatha, waving her big hands. “Such a nuisance you are, really! Go on!” The men walked away, heading toward the horses. A small boy came out of the shadows to throw wood on the fire. Kate thought she saw a beard on his face as he turned to look at her. Just a trick of the light, perhaps, or nerves. Enough of this! Emily stepped toward the shadows, coaxing, “Seylin …” Kate caught her by the arm and pulled her around, turning to the old woman.
“Thank you so much for the fortunes,” she began firmly, “but what—”
“Oh, I know all about it, dears!” Agatha interrupted kindly. “Two pretty girls lost on a wild night, scared and tired, looking for the way home. You let old Agatha take care of that. We’ll take you home, don’t worry. Can’t have you out in a storm like this, no. And the only question is, who will take whom? Let’s see, where did they go? What’s your name, dear, Kate? And who will take Kate home, eh?”
The taller man was leading his horse, a large gray hunter that any gentleman might be proud to own. Kate noticed that the man limped slightly. That, along with the high shoulder. Old age? His posture was unaffected, and he carried himself with dignity. He couldn’t be old; he had laughed like a young man, and when he spoke, his voice was not an old man’s voice. It was rich and pleasant, naturally commanding. “Don’t worry, Agatha. I’ll take your Kate home, of course.” Amused and tolerant. Amused at what? The old woman? Their silliness in getting lost?
“Oh, Marak!” breathed Agatha delightedly, turning her twinkling black eyes on him. Kate felt again that sense of unease. Why the delight and excitement over a simple, good-hearted gesture? The man brought his horse up to her wordlessly and turned to check the saddle. She could see nothing but a black cloak. Good cloth, Aunt Prim would say. Expensive cloth, generously cut. Big, gloved hands pulling down the stirrup. Kate looked more closely. The right hand had six fingers.
“W-wait!” she stammered. “You—you don’t know where we live. How can you promise to take us home if you don’t know where we live?” The man paused for a fraction of a second and then continued his work without looking up. She turned quickly, hoping to see a surprised look on Agatha’s face, hoping to find some answer to the riddle she was facing. But Emily blurted out helpfully, “Yes, we live in the Hallow Hill Lodge. Do you know where that is? Are we very far from there?”
“Of course we know where you live, dears,” replied Agatha with a chuckle. “Do you think anyone in this country doesn’t know of the pretty girls come to live with the two old ladies up in the forest? We’ve not got much to gossip over around here. Now, let’s see. Marak, shouldn’t Thaydar take the little one along? Such a receptive nature, such pluck.”
“I think so,” replied that amused, amiable voice. “It’s probably for the best. So, ready?” And he turned to Kate, putting out his hands to boost her up onto his horse. Emily was stroking the horse’s neck delightedly. He was far finer than any at the Hall.
“No!” said Kate, stepping back and treading on her sister’s foot. “I—I prefer to walk, thank you.” A silence swept across the little group.
“Oh, Kate!” Emily gasped.
The rider dropped his hands slowly and seemed to stare down at her from beneath his hood. He was almost a head taller than she was. “Really,” he said distinctly, all amusement gone from that commanding voice. His manner was beyond cold. It was glacial.
Kate forced herself to hold up her head and face him as the blood rushed through her cheeks in a tingling wave. She wasn’t sure why she had said what she did, but she would not be faced down now by strangers. Something was wrong here; she knew it. She refused to be a fool for them.
“Yes,” she replied as calmly and formally as she could. “Please lead my sister and me to the Hallow Hill Lodge, where we live. If you do, we will be very grateful. I hope we are not far from the Lodge because we do not wish to try your patience too long.”
The hooded man continued to stare at her for a long moment. Then he gave a short laugh. “Well, well, how intriguing! No,” he continued firmly over Agatha’s spluttered protests, “we will certainly humor the cautious young woman. Thaydar, I’ll not need you. I believe one horse is sufficient to point out the way.” He swung up into the saddle. “Now, shall we begin our walk?” he added to the two girls. “Or, that is—” he went on, bending toward Emily. “I assume that you prefer to walk, too?”
“I do not!” said Emily decidedly, glaring at her sister. She caught the rider’s arm and let herself be swung up before him.
“Em!” shouted Kate, panicked, but it was too late. He settled her little sister comfortably and put the horse into a plodding walk. Kate stood for a second, hands shaking, unsure what she had expected. Then she had to scramble after them.
The darkness pressed in around them as they left the bonfire behind. Lightning flickered and flashed. Marak’s good humor seemed to have returned, and he soon had Emily telling him all about life at the Lodge. Kate stumbled along at the horse’s flank, trying to keep up. She felt like a complete fool.
“So your name is M. That’s a letter, isn’t it?” he asked. This notion caught Emily’s fancy powerfully, and she couldn’t stop giggling.
“My name is Emily Winslow, but my sister calls me Em. Or maybe she calls me M. I wonder what I stand for.” Kate tripped over a root and thought Emily sounded like an idiot.
“Isn’t it funny how humans name a child one thing in order to call it something else? So many names. It’s like a game. M’s a new one. Kate—now, that’s a name everyone knows.”
They were walking through a field of weeds. The weeds were up to Kate’s waist, and she kept slipping on the long stalks. “Miss Winslow,” she muttered through clenched teeth, but Marak heard her. He must have very good ears.
“Oh, hello, Kate, are you all right down there? Are you enjoying your walk? So, Miss Winslow. How convenient. You have one name for friends and another for enemies.” Emily giggled again. He certainly was making a hit with her.
“I do not have a name for enemies,” Kate answered sharply. “Polite society dictates the use of a person’s name.” She emphasized polite; she just couldn’t help herself. “I am Kate within my family and Miss Winslow to strangers.”
“Oh, good, Kate,” came the cheerful reply. Really, this was intolerable. “I can keep calling you Kate and still be part of polite society. I’m family, you know. Hugh Roberts of Hallow Hill is a relative of mine. His grandfather and my mother were cousins. Their fathers were brothers.”
“Really?” exclaimed Emily excitedly. “I didn’t know we had any more relatives.” Neither did Kate. She felt her mortification could not go further. Perhaps this man had been on his way to visit his cousin. He must have known all about the two new wards. And now everyone would know how absurdly she had acted. But why had he been so rude? Why the hood, the wordless meeting? Really, it was his fault she had made such a colossal blunder. She was upset to the point of tears.
“I’m afraid if you’re Mr. Roberts’s relative, you’re no relative of mine,” she snapped before she realized what she was saying. Oh, no! After keeping quiet all this time!
“What?” demanded Emily, and, “Really?” exclaimed her tormentor. He reined in the horse and turned to face her. “What do you mean, you’re not a Roberts? I thought you were living with your great-aunts.”