[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
concentrated on the exhibits before him, and carefully wiped some of the dust from
the glass cases with his sleeve. The first case held a severed human hand, carefully stuffed and mounted.
Spidery hand-writing on a card at the base of the display case said simply Rocca's Bane. Jordan
shrugged. The name didn't ring any bells. The next case held an ornate silver goblet, crusted with
semi-precious stones. Just looking at it made Jordan's fingers twitch hungrily. He forced the thought
aside, and concentrated on the display card. Sebastian's Chalice. Jordan shook his head, none the wiser.
The next case held a slender silver knife, the hilt covered in tiny etched runes and glyphs, too small to be
read with the unaided eye. The card said simply The Starlight Duke's Dagger.
Jordan's breath caught in his throat. He might not recognise any of the other exhibits, but this . . . The
legendary Starlight Duke had founded Hillsdown some six hundred years ago. Children learnt his life
story at school, and the rulers of Hillsdown were still called Duke rather than King, in honour of the great
and famous man. And here was his dagger. His dagger. It had to be worth a fortune . . . Jordan shook
his head slightly, and moved on. He didn't dare take anything but the locket. Too many people had
known he was coming here. Unfortu-nately. The next case held a simple gold locket on a rolled-gold
chain. Jordan studied it for a long time before looking at the card. It said simply Lady Mary's Locket.
Jordan slipped his torch into a nearby holder, and carefully lifted up the glass cover. It clung stubbornly
to its base for a long moment, and then came free with a quiet sucking sound. Jordan put the glass
carefully to one side, and then picked up the locket and chain. He felt more than saw Wee Geordie
crowding in beside him, but he didn't look away from the locket. It was very light in his hand, and the
oval locket opened easily once he found the clasp. Inside were two perfect miniature portraits. The one
on the left showed a young boy with thin, pinched features and straw-coloured hair. The right-hand
portrait showed a beautiful young woman. She had long blonde hair that fell in curls and ringlets to her
bare shoulders. Her high cheekbones and pale blue eyes gave her a cold, almost harsh look, but her
smile was warm and loving. Lady Mary of Fenbrook, dead and buried these past two hundred years.
Jordan took a deep breath, and turned and crouched down beside Wee Geordie. He held the open
locket so that the boy could see both portraits.
'That's me,' said Geordie, looking at the left-hand portrait. Awe and wonder filled his face.
'Do you recognise this woman?' said Jordan.
'That's my mother,' said Geordie. 'I told you she was beauti-ful.' He reached out a hesitant hand to touch
the portrait, and then lowered his hand again, and just looked at the calm, serene face. 'Mother,' he said
quietly, 'I've been looking for you for such a long time.'
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Tears stung Jordan's eyes, and he fought them back. It wouldn't do for the boy to see him so upset. He
sniffed quickly a couple of times, and then looked around for the dog. He started slightly on finding that
the animal had moved silently up on his other side without him noticing. He straightened up, and held the
locket before the dog's nose. The bloodhound sniffed the cold metal thoroughly. Jordan looked hard at
the dog, and the animal stared back at him with old, wise eyes.
'We need you to find Wee Geordie's mother,' said Jordan slowly, not knowing how much, if any, of
what he was saying the dog understood. But there was something about the ghost dog that suggested he
understood a great deal, in his way. He looked unblinkingly at Jordan, and then at Wee Geordie, and
then he lifted his great head and sniffed the air. He wagged his tail twice, and headed purposefully for the
open door. Geordie hurried after him. Jordan tossed the locket back on to its stand and hurried after the
two ghosts.
The bloodhound made his way unhesitatingly down the corridor, looking neither to the left nor to the
right. He held his head high, and there was a calm certainty in his sad eyes and untiring gait. Wee Geordie
walked close beside him, his gaze fixed hopefully on the dog. The animal turned into a side corridor,
padded down the narrow passageway for a while, and then chose another turning. Its calm decisiveness
was an eerie spectacle in itself, and Jordan's hackles stirred uneasily on the
back of his neck. The bloodhound led them on, and they followed it through corridors and passageways,
up stairs and down, along rotundas and in and out of countless doors. And still the dog didn't hesitate in
its stride, only stopping when it needed Jordan to open a door for it. The bloodhound headed down one
gloomy passage after another, following a trail only he could detect.
The trail came to a sudden end at a blank wall that sealed off a deserted passageway. The bloodhound
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]