The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [53]
Faintly disappointed, I moved to a different section of the shelves and took out more books at random. Many had been underlined and notated in a neat, sharp script in the margins, but none of them said anything I could understand. It seemed to me that there were as many numbers as words in them. Whatever they were about, I finally concluded, they were a far cry from the Oldtime storybooks and fictions my mother had read to Jes and me.
Suddenly I remembered where I had seen the maps. They had been on a table by the fire, where the doctor had rummaged for a pencil. My memory proved accurate, but the maps were of little use, being only badly tattered Beforetime maps. But on one I noticed that the spaces between places were covered in small faded ink notes in the same handwriting as in the Beforetime books. Maps of the Beforetime were nothing but curios, and yet someone clearly had been making an immense and determined effort to find some place that had existed in the Beforetime. A vain thing to attempt, for everyone knew the shape of the world had been changed forever by the Great White.
I wondered suddenly if these notes had been scribed by Alexi or Madam Vega. But when I looked at the scribing on the maps again, I saw that it was faded with age.
Suddenly a picture came into my mind of the potmender who had seemed so familiar to me, and I remembered where I had seen him before. He had been the older man with Daffyd, the boy I had met at the Sutrium Councilcourt. It seemed too much of a coincidence that Daffyd and I had spoken of Obernewtyn, and now here was the man that had been with him. I shook my head, reminding myself that this was not the time and place for solving such puzzles. At last, I found a book of modern maps. I opened it, but to my disappointment, they were all of the lowlands. I was about to replace the book when I noticed an inscription that read, “To Marisa.”
Marisa! Impulsively, I opened another book to the front page and found the same inscription. It was the same in a Beforetime book. Amazed, I understood that the collection had belonged to Marisa Seraphim. Then it struck me that the crabbed notes I had been reading were hers. I turned back to the painting, and Marisa’s eyes mocked me in the light of the dying embers.
I began to search again, and this time I was startled to find that one set of shelves swung like a door. Behind it was another enormous chamber. I saw the unmistakable gleam of metal amid a pile of papers. And sure enough, it was an arrowcase. Delighted, I thrust it into my pocket. Then I noticed a square steel box standing on legs in a niche between two shelves. It was a metal cupboard with a lock built into the door. Curious, I knelt down and worked the tumblers with my mind. It was more complex than the door locks, but the mechanism was more delicate and therefore needed less force. In a moment, the door clicked open.
There were only two shelves inside, and both were stuffed with old papers and letters. I was disappointed, but I pulled out several pages. On top of the rest was a letter. It read:
My darling,
I have bitterly thought this over, and I have decided we cannot meet again. Mine is a strange family, tainted with madness. I do not want you to be part of that. I am the Master of Obernewtyn, and I belong here, but you do not. It would destroy you to be here. Forget what has passed between us. My mother has arranged a marriage. The lady in question does not love me. This is best, for, Lud knows, I do not love her. She bonds for gold, and I for convenience.
The letter ended suddenly halfway down the page, which suggested it had never been completed. I wondered why, and which Master of Obernewtyn had penned it. Not Stephen Seraphim, certainly, and not Lukas Seraphim. So it must be his son, Michael. And the mother he mentioned must be Marisa.
I found two more letters among the papers. Both had been opened and replaced neatly