Buku The Puppeteer: Book II of The Guild of Gatekeepers by Frances Jones

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The Puppeteer: Book II of The Guild of Gatekeepers by Frances Jones

Author:Frances Jones [Jones, Frances]

Language: eng

Format: epub

Published: 2019-04-09T23:00:00+00:00

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The Puppeteer: Book II of The Guild of Gatekeepers by Frances Jones

Chapter 23

I dreamt as I did each night, though not the usual nightmare that haunted my sleep. Instead, I stood in the churchyard of St Mary’s looking at five coffins lying beside their newly dug graves. Emerson stood in the corner watching me. Slowly, the coffin lids began to open, and the corpses, cloaked and hooded so that I could not see their faces, climbed out. Fear gripped me so that I couldn’t move to run. I looked over to Emerson, but I could neither speak nor cry out. Emerson looked straight ahead at the corpses and seemed not to notice me. His lips moved soundlessly as he muttered snatches of words I could not make out while the corpses made a solemn round of the churchyard, their movements slow and deliberate as though guided by an external force.

‘Tom, wake up.’

 

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The Puppeteer: Book II of The Guild of Gatekeepers by Frances Jones

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The Puppeteer: Book II of The Guild of Gatekeepers by Frances Jones

Author:Frances Jones [Jones, Frances] , Date: June 11, 2019

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Author:Frances Jones [Jones, Frances]

Language: eng

Format: epub

Published: 2019-04-09T23:00:00+00:00
Chapter 23

I dreamt as I did each night, though not the usual nightmare that haunted my sleep. Instead, I stood in the churchyard of St Mary’s looking at five coffins lying beside their newly dug graves. Emerson stood in the corner watching me. Slowly, the coffin lids began to open, and the corpses, cloaked and hooded so that I could not see their faces, climbed out. Fear gripped me so that I couldn’t move to run. I looked over to Emerson, but I could neither speak nor cry out. Emerson looked straight ahead at the corpses and seemed not to notice me. His lips moved soundlessly as he muttered snatches of words I could not make out while the corpses made a solemn round of the churchyard, their movements slow and deliberate as though guided by an external force.

‘Tom, wake up.’

My eyes flew open, and the dream melted away. It was still dark, but Emerson stood in the doorway with a lantern in his hand and a leather bag tucked underneath his arm. Jack sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, just as he had when I fell asleep. I wasn’t sure he had slept or even moved at all.

I dressed quickly and went to join Eliza out in the hall. Peggy and Bandit were already waiting, sniffing the bundles of food and supplies with interest. A moment later, Tabatha returned from the stables. She was fretting about leaving Colonel behind, even in the care of the stablehand, who visited twice a day.

‘How do you mean to get us to Paimpont?’ Eliza asked Emerson as we made ready to leave.

‘You shall see shortly,’ he replied brusquely. Eliza didn’t press the subject any further.

It was still dark as we left the Gatehouse, but the subtle shift in the air warned me that dawn was close. Peggy and Bandit alone seemed pleased to be out at such an hour. Eliza and I lagged behind a little so we could speak without being overheard.

‘I would never have believed it of Professor Goldwick if you hadn’t seen Mabson yourself,’ said Eliza in a low voice.

‘Nor would I, but I suppose the wolf in sheep’s clothing is able to hide among the flock. I wish we could get a message to George to warn him. I’m mighty afraid that Bridget’s omen may come to pass.’

Eliza turned pale. ‘I had quite forgotten about that,’ she said. ‘George was erased from the painting!’

‘It’s not only that,’ I replied, my voice sinking below a whisper as though even the darkness around us must not hear my words. ‘I saw something else in the painting.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Eliza.

‘I thought I saw threads extending upwards from the hands and feet of all the magicians- like the strings of a puppet. I didn’t understand what it meant until now.’

‘Do you think it means the Puppeteer will succeed in making puppets of every magician at the tournament?’ Eliza whispered, her voice trembling as though uttering the words might manifest the very thing she spoke of.

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