The Book Eaters(68)
“I can’t argue with that.”
They drove through a juncture, past a sign that suggested turning left to find St. Rowan’s Primary School. Hester steered straight through town, heading for its south end.
“Will I have friends, someday?” Cai said, eyes on the receding school sign. “If I have enough Redemption to live without hunger?”
Devon looked at him in surprise: this small, intense figure, so precociously intelligent and aware for his years. The idea of managing his friendships, helping him to navigate those social situations, seemed overwhelming. More so than killing knights or luring humans home.
Come to think of it, Devon herself had never made friends, just played with her siblings and cousins. How did one make friends? Let alone keep them? Mysterious. Then the unbidden thought: maybe she’d find out with Hester. Stupid, that; she wasn’t planning to stay.
“I hope you will have friends, wherever you end up,” Hester said. “You will always have to guard against your hunger, but you seem safe enough with your mother. I’m confident you can learn to be around others without risk.”
“Oh, okay. How long are we staying?” Cai said, sitting up a little straighter. “If Killock likes us and we like him, can we live here forever?”
“Let’s take this one step at a time,” Devon said. “Make sure Killock does like us.” She already knew she wouldn’t like him: a combination of gut instinct and lifelong experience of Family patriarchs.
The center of Innerleithen peeled away, slushed and salted roads melding back into rolling, snow-slung forests. They crossed the River Tweed over a long, low bridge. Devon could not help but scan its waters for evidence of riverine islands, as Jarrow had specified. Her view wasn’t good enough from the car to pick out any such land masses.
A mile or so past the bridge, they approached a vintage-style sign reading TRAQUAIR HOUSE with a white arrow pointing down a smaller road.
“We’re here, safe and sound,” Hester said. She followed the sign, turning off the main road and onto the grounds of what was, presumably, Traquair itself.
They drove slowly down a long driveway, sculpted with green lawns and shadowed by ancient trees. Off to one side were a collection of smaller buildings, mostly wooden, and what looked like a rather elegant garden of extraordinary size.
Directly ahead sprawled a white building, as big as any Family manor. And more fortified, she thought; iron gates, concrete posts, small windows. A house that had seen conflict. There was a long history of fighting between Scotland and England.
“You don’t have much security,” Devon observed. “Don’t you worry the Families will find you?”
“The Families are barely looking for us. If anything, I think they were relieved when we disappeared. Solved a lot of problems for them.” Hester cruised through a pair of iron gates, slowing the Ford to a crawl. “As for the knights—even if they came calling, a few locks on the gates wouldn’t help. Not being found is our first and best line of defense.”
“I guess so.” Devon thought about Hester in the train station, the accuracy of her gun. If the rest of the Ravenscars were similarly fierce, then the knights would have a fight on their hands. “Everything with your clan seems to be complicated. Including you, and your place in it.”
“You have no idea.” Hester parked up on the gravel, yanking the hand brake. “I’m going to introduce you to Killock today. When we first heard you were looking for us, it was his idea to bring you in and offer sanctuary. However, you will have to convince him you’re safe, trustable, and genuine. Are you willing to answer his questions? There are gaps in your story that we’re curious about.”
“If he wants to know how I escaped the Easterbrooks, then I am willing enough to share,” Devon said, watching dust skip through slanted sunbeams. “I’m not ready to talk about my daughter with strangers, though. That’s all in the past, anyway.”
“I’m sure that will be fine.” Hester unclipped her seat belt, took a breath. “Listen. When we go inside, you are going to find out things about me that I have concealed. Please understand that I have never hidden the truth out of maliciousness. I’ve lied about myself only because Killock asked me to be circumspect. I’m sorry, I know that doesn’t make any sense right now, but it will very soon.”
The back of Devon’s neck was prickling from alarm. “I’m not liking the sound of this.”
“We should hurry, they’ll know we’re here and will be expecting us.” Hester got out of the car and walked across the driveway toward the heavy doors.
Devon exchanged a long and troubled look with Cai, who shrugged. They both got out and followed Hester. No going back now.
Entering Traquair House felt strangely familiar to Devon, as if she had been there already and seen it all before. In one sense, she effectively had. The Ravenscars had wrangled their way into an ancient estate home, blending British tradition with ’eater needs. The whole setup was very Family. Whatever the beef with their deceased father, ingrained custom lingered.
The house itself bore a legacy of violence. Iron studs covered a solid oak door, which Devon recognized as a form of reinforcement against invading English soldiers. It was old, and strong enough to withstand a solid ax blow or two. The hallways surprised her: narrow, low-ceilinged, built of whitewashed stone. Not regal or royal, just built for war. A series of servant bells hung above one of the beams, in different sizes and tones.