Goblin Moon (30 page)

Dr. Crow frowned, shaking his head. “It would appear,
then, that the Circle is older than we suspected. Not white witches
in the beginning, certainly, but perhaps comparatively harmless and
discreet in their activities, until they fell under the influence
of the troll.”

A few more pages, and the ink appeared fresher.
Ezekiel read the names with ever-mounting dismay. “Seems half the
families between here and Pfalz was touched by this filth. Some of
these people is dead: starved out by the witches or cursed by ‘em.
Or so the rest of us thought, anyways.”

“Perhaps they were, in some sense, victims,” said Dr.
Crow. “It is easy to be drawn into these things, as I have reason
to know, but difficult to get out. In most secret societies, death
is the penalty for a lapse in loyalty.”

He studied the volume for several minutes more. “Were
I a hard-hearted man, I should certainly turn the entire volume
over to the magistrate at Pfalz. But what you have told me and what
I have seen convinces me that there was more criminal
weakness
here than genuine wickedness—and so I am
inclined to be merciful.”

He tore out the last three written pages. “The
earliest names will be those of the most culpable; those names I
will take to the authorities, and any that live shall suffer the
full penalty of the law. Granny Hügel and Rudolf Bormann were
undoubtedly the ringleaders, but they are dead. As for the names on
these later pages: the fright they received this night may incline
them to mend their ways. I should like to give them that chance, to
live and to work hard to expiate their sins, as I—as others have
done before them. But if they will not . . .”

He handed the torn pages over to Ezekiel. “I shall
entrust these pages to you. Bury them in a safe place—your
grandmother’s grave perhaps—or secrete them in the church, for they
are dangerous to keep by you. Observe the behavior of your
neighbors. If you have reason to suspect even a single instance of
black witchcraft in the neighborhood, turn these over to the
magistrate at Pfalz. I can rely on you to do this? You will not
falter, for the sake of old friendships?”

“No, sir, I won’t falter,” said Ezekiel, with a
stubborn thrust of his jaw. “I’ve got to live here, don’t I? I’m
going to marry Tilda and raise a family, and I’ll be d----d if I
don’t do everything in my power to make it a safe place to
live!”

“Very good,” said Dr. Crow, closing the book and
tucking it into some inner pocket in his cloak. “I am content to
leave that aspect of the matter in your capable hands.”

Chapter
24

Wherein Jedidiah improves on his Acquaintance with
Mr. Budge.

All through the season of Ripening, Jedidiah worked
hard, both in the counting-house and at the other new tasks Master
Ule assigned him. He was determined to learn as much as he could
about the glass trade, to aid the good old dwarf (as much as it was
humanly possible) in the expansion of his business, and so justify
his benefactor’s faith.

That Master Ule was pleased with his progress, that
he was now a vital part of the enterprise, Jed had no doubt. The
dwarf was generous in his praise and he demonstrated his approval
in other ways as well. Several evenings spent in company at the Ule
mansion introduced Jed into dwarf Society, where he rapidly gained
favor, for the dwarves valued industry and honest ambition, and
were quick to recognize and encourage those qualities wherever they
found them. Soon, Jedidiah was receiving invitations not only from
the Ules and the Owlfeathers but from all the best dwarf families.
In addition, he dined twice with Hermes Budge, the Owlfeather
tutor.

So it came as no surprise, near the end of the
season, when Jed looked up from his work at the close of one day,
to find the tall, solemn tutor waiting to speak to him.

“Mr. Braun, your servant!” Mr. Budge made a low bow.
“I wondered if I might have the honor of your company for the
evening? I am on my way to the Cat and the Crown, an excellent
chop-house, and I thought you might care to accompany me.”

Jed stood up and returned the bow. These friendly
attentions on the part of a man of such superior education
flattered him, but he knew the tutor’s means were nearly as limited
as his own. “Mr. Budge, I’m obliged to you. But I’d rather . . .
that is . . . I would be obliged if you will allow me to play the
host. It’s only a step to my new lodgings. Let me buy the supper
and a bottle of wine; I’d consider it a kindness on your part.”

“As you wish,” said Budge, replacing his hat.

Jed sealed his inkwell and wiped his pen. He slipped
into his coat and picked up his hat. Then he took leave of Polydore
Figg, who was also clearing his desk, and followed the tutor out to
the street.

The day had been hot, but the evening was foggy; they
walked out the door into a chill, swirling mist. Jed reached into
his coat pocket and pulled out a woolen muffler, which he wrapped
around his neck. His companion also produced a long scarf and a
pair of white gloves.

“I wonder, Mr. Braun,” said Budge, as they walked to
the chop-house, “how much do you know about the aims and the
activities of the Glassmakers Lodge?”

So here it was, thought Jed, the thing Uncle Caleb
had warned him against time and time again.
“They’ll be after you for information, mark my words,
asking you to join them, hoping you’ll blab. Don’t you trust them,
boy, don’t you tell them nothing!”

Yet even so, Jed could not quite believe there was
anything sinister, either in Mr. Budge’s question or in his
motives.

“I know . . . I know they ain’t all of them
interested just in making glass,” he said slowly. “I heard—I’ve
heard about ceremonies, and rituals, and secret vows. I guess
everyone knows that much.”

“Indeed,” said Hermes Budge, striding upright and
dignified beside him—looking not at all like a man who was privy to
dark secrets and even darker deeds. “And yet I should have thought
that the grandnephew of Caleb Braun would know considerably
more.”

Jed sucked in a mouthful of the misty air and slowly
released it. “It would seem I have surprised you, Mr. Braun—have I
surprised you?” asked Budge. “But you mention your granduncle
often, and also Jenk the bookseller. You make no attempt to conceal
your association with either of them, though surely you must know
that either name is bound to attract attention from members of the
Guild.

“No one wishes to place you in an uncomfortable
position, or to urge you to do anything against your inclination,”
said the tutor. “Indeed, it was just because we feared some—I
believe grudge would be too strong a word, for there was never any
harm done on either side, so far as I am aware—some predisposition
against the lodge on the part of your granduncle, which he may have
passed on to you—it was partly because of this that we hesitated so
long in approaching you.”

They came to a corner and turned down another,
narrower street. The lamps were farther apart here, the mist
thicker and more clinging. Jed had difficulty making out his
companion’s face.

“Seems to me,” said Jedidiah, “it’s an odd sort of
thing you should approach me at all. Supposing, of course, this is
all leading up to an invitation for me to join your lodge. Who am I
that you should want me, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I do not mind you asking at all,” said Mr. Budge.
“Indeed, I should expect no less. Because you are quite right: our
mysteries are not for everyone. The quest for occult knowledge
carries many risks. These risks are increased when the seeker is
frivolous or dull of mind, so we are exceedingly particular in
choosing our candidates. I might add,” said Budge, “that there are
many men who have served in glass-houses all of their lives and
never been invited to join the speculative branch of the lodge.

“As to why we should take an interest in you, and not
in the others,” said Mr. Budge. “Your name was first advanced by
Master Ule as just the sort of bright, decent, honest young man
that we are always looking to recruit. His recommendation alone
carries great weight, but nevertheless there are procedures which
must be observed. I hope you will not be offended, Mr. Braun, when
I tell you that my original reasons for cultivating your friendship
were in accordance with those procedures. As an educator, I have
gained an ability to assess the capacity of young minds, and in
like manner I was called upon to evaluate you.”

By this time, they had reached the chop-house, but
Jed held back at the door. A warm glow of firelight issued through
the mullioned windows; bits of conversation drifted through the
door; there was the sizzle of steaks and chops cooking over an open
fire. All these invited him to come in out of the dark and the
damp, but he lingered on the street, determined to have this out
with the tutor before he ventured inside.

“And what did this evaluation tell you?” he asked
warily.

Mr. Budge smiled. “If I may say so, Mr. Braun, you
lack that quickness which all too often passes for brilliance, but
you are steady, studious, and thoughtful, and I believe that you
possess an excellent mind. You protest—you are all modesty—but you
must allow that I am something of an expert in these matters and
ought to know whereof I speak. Moreover, I admire your efforts to
better yourself, and if you decline to join our brotherhood, I
would still like to think that our friendship could continue.

“I do sincerely believe,” the tutor went on
earnestly, “that if you were to join our lodge you would learn much
that would amaze you, much that would broaden and expand your
intellect, and that you would not only benefit from the exercise,
but find it the source of deep and enduring pleasure in its own
right.”

Mr. Budge sighed. “You continue to frown—you look
uneasy—it is evident you have inherited your kinsman’s distrust of
the guild. I understand, and will say no more.”

Jedidiah shook his head, shifted uneasily from one
foot to the other. “ ‘Tisn’t that so much. It’s true that Uncle
Caleb doesn’t think highly of your guild, but I guess I’m a man now
and able to make my own decisions. The fact is, they never did my
people any good: mysteries and magic books and all the rest. They
did my Uncle Caleb a good deal of harm, and he’s not
‘a frivolous man’,
or a dull one. And as for
Gottfried Jenk, he’s been called a madman—many and many is the
time—but never a fool.

“I guess,” said Jed, “I guess me and Sera Vorder have
this much in common: we’ve developed a natural aversion to your
occult knowledge, all on our own.”

“I understand completely,” said Mr. Budge. “Pray do
not feel obligated to explain any further. And do not fear that
this will affect your position or your advancement at Master Ule’s
glasshouse. I assure you that it will not.”

They went inside the chop-house, where Jed purchased
two nicely grilled steaks, a pot of gravy, and some roasted
potatoes. A stop at the tavern next door provided them with liquid
refreshment. Then, with the steaks and the potatoes wrapped up in
brown paper and divided between them, a bottle of good wine under
Mr. Budge’s arm, they continued on their way.

“I will say only this much, and then we shall abandon
the subject entirely,” said Mr. Budge, as they walked down
Tidewater Lane. “If you should change your mind at any time, please
feel free to approach me. Or if you should experience a change of
heart while I am out of town, you may speak to Mr. Owlfeather or
Master Ule.”

“Very well,” said Jed. He put his hands into his
pockets along with the potatoes to keep them warm. “I guess . . . I
guess maybe I’ll give it some thought, anyway. Are you thinking of
leaving town, Mr. Budge? Not permanent, I hope?”

“For a matter of eight or ten weeks, perhaps a little
more. I shall be visiting a famous scholar and antiquarian, who
leads a very secluded life in the country. I suppose, Mr. Braun,”
he added politely, “that you have never been out of Thornburg
yourself?”

“I’ve never been anywhere,” said Jed. “I’ve never
been anywhere and I’ve never seen anything much worth seeing. But I
mean to travel, by and by.”

“I hope that you may one day do so,” said Mr. Budge.
And he proceeded to regale his companion with tales of his
roundabout journey from Imbria into Marstadtt, until they reached
the shabby (but eminently respectable) old house where Jed and his
Uncle Caleb had recently taken lodgings.

This boarding house had obviously seen better days,
but still managed to retain a genteel atmosphere of faded grandeur
by virtue of an imposing portico, some worn carpets of oriental
design, and a number of still elegant fireplaces. The fireplace in
Jed’s attic sitting room was tiny, but it was solid marble, and
boasted a decorative molding consisting of two miniature Fates, a
garland of crumbling roses, and numerous fantastical birds.

Uncle Caleb was not in, as a quick peek inside the
two adjoining bedchambers confirmed. Jed knit his brow and gnawed
on his lower lip. It seemed that Caleb and his employer were
keeping later and later hours. When Caleb did come home, he always
looked so old and frail it made Jed’s heart ache just to gaze on
him. Nor would Caleb deign to eat so much as a scrap of food,
declaring he had supped at the bookshop and lacked the appetite.
For all that, the expression he wore was not of a man who had eaten
well; it was the look of a man who was dying of some insatiable
hunger.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Braun. I do not mean to
intrude, but has something disturbed you?” asked Budge, coming up
behind him.

Reminded of his guest, Jed smoothed out his frown.
“Nothing. Or nothing much, I don’t suppose.” He dropped his parcels
on a table by the fire. He brought a three-branched candlestick and
some of the finer plates and cups, and pulled up two battered but
sturdy chairs.