Kay giggled, ignoring the girl’s glare. She offered Rip a clay cup. ‘Thirsty?’ she asked.
Rip nodded, took the cup and upended it, drinking its contents down in a few big gulps. It was some sort of fruit juice, but not like apple cider; more like berries.
He gasped for air and said, ‘Thanks.’
‘I was thirsty it seemed like forever,’ the girl said. ‘I’m Amanda. My family calls me Mandy.’ She was older than Rip, looking to be almost as old as Lorrie, but unlike his sister, Mandy was a solemn-looking girl, with bright blonde hair and pale blue eyes.
‘Rip,’ he said by way of introduction. ‘Where am I?’
The room he was in had stone walls under the cloth; he felt a moment’s awe at how much of the fancy cloth there was. He knew how long Ma and Lorrie had to work to make even enough for a new shirt.
The stones neatly shaped into blocks, not like the stones in the fireplace at home. People in funny clothes riding horses rippled in a draught; it wasn’t really very warm, and there was a queer musty smell to the air he didn’t much like. The bed, he looked around—no, beds—had lots of covers. His even had a roof on it, like a fancy tent.
‘You’re in my bed,’ Mandy said. Not that she was going to kick him out of it immediately, but like she was just letting him know he couldn’t stay forever.
‘Are we in a castle?’ Rip asked. He couldn’t think of anywhere else that had stone walls. And—that word Emmet told me in the story ofKing Akter—tapestries! Yes, those are tapestries! And kings live in castles of stone.
Mandy shrugged. ‘I suppose it’s a castle.’
‘We can’t go out,’ Neesa said. She glanced around and put her arms around herself, as if cold.
‘Sometimes they come and take someone,’ Kay said. He lowered his voice to a whisper, ‘And they never come back.’
Rip looked around. He didn’t know what had happened, why he wasn’t safe at home with his parents. He was frightened. ‘Maybe their mothers and fathers come and take them home,’ he said hopefully.
Kay’s face screwed up into a mean little knot. ‘You just got here! You don’t know anything!’ He hopped off the bed and ran over to one of the other beds, flopping down and turning his back to them. Rip could hear sobbing as Kay cried into the covers.
Rip softly said, ‘I want my mummy and daddy.’ Tears welled up in his eyes. Mandy watched him for a moment, then leaned close to him and put her arm around his shoulders. ‘He’s just scared. They take more boys. I’ve been here a long time and they’ve taken away four boys.’ Lowering her voice even more, she tapped the side of her head with a finger. ‘Kay’s not quite right. He’s Neesa’s age, ten, but he acts like he’s five.’ She lowered her voice even more. ‘Neesa’s not right either. She sees things and hears things.’ Rip was surprised to learn Kay was ten years old. He didn’t look it, or act it.
Rip was sturdy and tough for seven. He had been around when his father had butchered animals and had helped his sister dress out rabbits she hunted. His nature was to get quiet and withdrawn rather than to cry or complain; softly he said, ‘I’m scared.’
Mandy patted him on the shoulder. ‘We’re all scared, boy. Are you hungry?’ she asked.
‘Food will help,’ Neesa said. Her eyes were bright and she nodded.
Rip sat all the way up and scrunched forward until he was able to put his feet over the edge of the bed, where he swayed dizzily before flopping over onto his back.
Mandy sighed and got up. ‘Stay there. I’ll bring you something.’
‘Maybe I shouldn’t,’ he said, feeling queasy again.
‘Did you eat today?’ she asked him.
‘I don’t know.’ He frowned. He couldn’t remember anything except an occasional comment in the dark by Growly or Weasel. Where were his father and mother? He couldn’t feel Mother at all, that was strange. It was like when he lost a tooth and there was a space there before the new tooth came in. Maybe this time there wouldn’t be a new thing coming. Lorrie? He reached for her and felt, very faint and far away, an echo of her presence. Maybe he was just too far away from his mother to feel her. But something told him that wasn’t the case. It felt like memory, but without the pictures and sounds that came with remembering.
‘Where’s your mother?’ he asked Mandy.
She dropped the plate of smoked meat, cheese and apples into his lap, giving him a cold look. ‘We don’t talk about them,’ she said.
‘Why not?’ he asked, reasonably enough, he thought.
‘That’s your bed,’ she said, pointing to a bed in the corner.