I thought it odd, before reading the journal’s last entries, that she wished it given to her nephew rather than to his father, her brother. But I know now she shares something with her nephew that is different from what she shares with Bek. Something that transcends all other considerations. Something that dictates her decision regarding the fate of the journal.
Something that requires l do my part for her.
“So the journal isn’t even here?” Railing asked in disbelief.
“I would guess that it is somewhere in your home,” Woostra answered. “If it hasn’t been destroyed.”
Railing thought a moment. “We have a trunk in which writings made by Ohmsfords since the time of my great-grandfather have been kept. Everything before that was lost during a period when it seemed all of the Ohmsfords had died out. The trunk came to us and my father took it into the attic of our home and left it there, bound and locked. We have been careful to preserve everything in it ever since.”
“But you must have looked in it?”
“I don’t think anyone has. Not since my grandfather died.” Then he paused suddenly, and a startled look crossed his face. “Except for …”
Realization flooded his eyes. “My mother.”
24
He explained his mother’s involvement to Woostra after they had returned Khyber Elessedil’s journal to its hiding place in the bedchamber wall and sealed it up again.
“I saw her looking through the trunk once, not long after my grandfather died and it was delivered to us by my grandmother. I was by myself; I don’t remember what Redden was doing. I do remember I was still pretty young and didn’t know the history. I only knew that it had come from Grandfather, and that Father considered it very valuable.”
“You never looked inside it yourself?” Woostra was leading him back through the empty corridors of the Keep and out into the courtyard past the desiccated bodies and piles of debris. “Or maybe your brother?”
“If Redden had looked, he would have told me. We tell each other everything.” He did not mention Mirai. “I didn’t look because I just didn’t have any real interest. After a while, I sort of forgot about it.”
“But you saw your mother?”
“She was kneeling by the trunk, and the lid was raised. She was holding papers and had others stacked beside her. Maybe there was a book or two, as well. Maybe even the missing journal. I can’t remember. I almost said something, but the look on her face—I remember it so well. She was very upset. I didn’t know why but I knew enough not to disturb her. I watched for a minute more and then left. I told Redden, and later on when Mother wasn’t around we went into the attic where the trunk was stored for a look. But it was locked again, and we didn’t know where the key was. We thought about breaking the lock, but if we did Mother would know what we’d been up to and we decided it wasn’t worth it. Just a bunch of old papers and books, we told ourselves.”
He shook his head. “We never went back. Mostly, we didn’t think it was important enough.”
They crossed the courtyard and retraced their steps down into the tunnels. They might have found a way through the gates or over the walls, but Woostra never seemed to consider going another way. He was silent for a time after Railing finished his story, and it was only as they reached the far end of the tunnel and the hidden entry they had passed through coming in that he turned once more to the boy.
“Your mother is no friend to the Druids. Especially not to the Ard Rhys. She still blames the order for your father’s death. You know all this, so you know we can’t just go to her and ask to look in the trunk.”
“We can’t go to her at all,” Railing declared. “She thinks Redden is safe. She can’t be allowed to find out he isn’t. If she sees me without him, she’ll know something is wrong.”