The Secrets of Ordinary Farm

Chapter 20

Lucinda was in a cave that was also the farmhouse, sitting on one side of a table set in the middle of a room full of photographs. On the far side of the table, teapot held in a clawed foot, sat the young dragon Desta, smiling kindly.

“It’s really rather simple,” Desta explained. “You’ve been eaten alive. It happens all the time. My mama tells me that sometimes it’s easier just to swallow a deer or a cow whole than struggle with carrying it back to the nest. More tea?”

Lucinda nodded, although she did not remember having had any tea in the first place.

“It’s made with roses,” Desta said, pouring for both and then picking up her own cup. “Very good for girls. Girls like roses. You like roses, don’t you?”

Lucinda couldn’t remember whether she did or didn’t, but she nodded anyway. “Oh, yes, of course. Lovely roses.” But it was hard to talk-her tongue felt huge and her face was very hot. The walls of the cave-parlor were covered in a green paper with plant designs that actually seemed real, curling stems and dark, spiky thorns that hung even from the ceiling. Lucinda wondered if Desta might even have made the tea from those wallpaper plants-the back of her throat felt very prickly and thorny indeed. “When did you learn to talk so well?” she asked.

Desta had another sip of tea, her wing raised to her mouth, her smallest foreclaw protruding. “I’ve always been able to talk. You had to learn how to listen.”

“But I thought dragons didn’t like humans. Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because you’re probably dying.” She nodded somberly. “So if we don’t have this conversation now, we probably never will, and I wanted to tell you that Azinza was right.”

Lucinda was confused and sad. She didn’t want to die. “Azinza?”

“About the monster. Something with a very long reach. Very, very long… ”

“What do you mean? I don’t understand!”

“Lucinda!” The dragon’s voice grew cold and sharp. “You must sit up.”

“But I don’t understand!”

“Sarah, make her sit.”

Lucinda couldn’t understand where the cook had come from, or why she couldn’t see her, but before she could ask about it someone clutched her with strong hands and pulled her up out of her chair. As Lucinda fought against the invisible attack her tea spilled on her face.

“You stupid girl!” the dragon’s voice said… but it wasn’t the dragon’s voice any longer. “See what you’ve done-you’ve spilled it all! Now I will have to make more!”

Lucinda opened her eyes to find herself in the Snake Parlor, stretched out on one of the old couches. She could dimly make out the bulk of Gideon’s bed, pale as a ghost-ship at the other side of the room. Sarah the cook sat over her, mopping her forehead with a damp cloth. Lucinda sat up. Not just her forehead was wet-she was sweaty all over. “What…?”

“You must not struggle, Lucinda,” Sarah told her, but her voice was kind. “You have your medicine spilled all around. She goes to make more.”

“What happened to me?”

“It is not sure. Pema and Azinza brought you in from the garden-they say you fell down and that you were very sick. Mrs. Needle gives you medicine to make you better.”

Before Lucinda could ask any more questions the slim figure of Mrs. Needle swept back into the room, a cup in one hand. She laid her thin, hard arm against Lucinda’s chest to hold her firmly in place. “No more playing up, now, child. Drink this.”

Lucinda didn’t have the strength to fight. Besides, she thought, if she wanted to poison me she could have done it already. Still, she smelled the dark liquid carefully before she drank it. It had a slightly musty taste, but had been sweetened with honey; Lucinda managed to drink it without much trouble. When she was finished Mrs. Needle leaned over her, looking carefully at Lucinda’s face, her delicate nostrils flaring as she sniffed for odors. She pulled back Lucinda’s blanket and began a painful examination of her belly.

“Spleen,” Mrs. Needle muttered as her long hard fingers dug in just below Lucinda’s ribcage. “Kidneys.” The Englishwoman seemed to be feeling as many different organs as she could-it was a dreadfully intimate sensation, but Lucinda was still too weak to resist.

When she had finished, Mrs. Needle wrote a few notes in a small book. “No harm to the organs,” she said.

“What happened to me?” She could only remember being in the garden, looking at the dead and dying animals. Beyond that she had only images, the greenhouse, the tangled roses, but it all seemed foggy and uncertain, as though it had happened to someone else.

The housekeeper gave her a cold look. “Who can say, child? The garden is full of medicinal plants-dangerous things. You have been told that many times. Only a fool would go touching things she knows nothing about. You are lucky you are not dead.”

“I swear I didn’t do anything wrong!” But was that true? She wasn’t entirely certain. “I would never touch any plants I didn’t know about… ”

“Really?” Mrs. Needle was not going to be stopped or even slowed. “So well-behaved, are you? So reliable? Only days ago you insulted me in front of those Spanish people, child, those Carrillos-as much as suggested I was trying to… to murder Gideon! Last summer it was some madness about sending animals to spy on your brother, so you’ll forgive me if I find your protests a bit suspect!”

Lucinda turned to appeal to her Gideon, but he seemed barely aware of what was going on. The old man stared at her with his red-rimmed eyes as though he’d never seen her before, mouth moving as though he were chewing-or talking in a voice no one could hear. Just looking at him made Lucinda feel queasy and strange.

No, she realized, not just queasy-she was feeling downright feverish. Her head was hot and seemed too large for her shoulders and all her muscles were beginning to ache. She swayed a little. She didn’t want to argue any more-in fact, she didn’t want to have to be here with pale, witchy Mrs. Needle or Uncle Gideon another second. And as she thought these woozy thoughts, the parlor door suddenly thumped open.

“Where’s Lucinda? What happened?” It was Tyler, with Ooola and Pema and Azinza right behind him in the doorway. Ooola was actually trying to hold her brother back. “Luce,” he said, “are you all right?”

She did her best to smile but her head was really pounding now. “I’ve been better. Something in the garden made me sick for a while.” But she was still sick, she realized-worse, if anything: her headache more painful by the second and something burned at the back of her throat and in her nose.

“What is the meaning of this intrusion, Master Jenkins?” demanded Patience Needle. “This is Gideon’s sick room, but you burst in here as though it were a barn and you were some kind of caterwauling animal. And look at you, dirty and tattered! I suppose it’s unimportant to you that someone else will have to repair those clothes!”

Tyler kneeled down beside Lucinda, looking her up and down. He felt her forehead. “Wow, you’re really hot! You should be in bed instead of here, Luce.”

“Yes, that’s exactly where she should be,” said Mrs. Needle. “And you, boy, should also be somewhere else so that your great-uncle can rest. Go on, all of you-out!” She waved her pale hands at Ooola and the kitchen women, but though they all retreated they did not go far, stopping to watch wide-eyed from the entry hall.

“No, send her out, Uncle Gideon,” said Tyler. His voice sounded too loud to Lucinda, but everybody else sounded loud, too; each word made her skull throb. “I need to talk to you about Mrs. Needle and her son.”

As she turned toward her great-uncle, Lucinda thought she might be dreaming again: Gideon was looking more and more like a dragon sitting on top of a hoard. Not a young dragon like Alamu, but an ancient dragon who had no allies, only enemies. He was looking at Tyler, but his mouth was pursed like he’d eaten something horribly sour. He looked nothing like the Gideon she knew-he barely looked human to her.

It’s the fever, she told herself, making me see things. It must be the fever…

“You are a terrible, wicked boy,” she heard Mrs. Needle say.

“It’s your son who’s wicked!” Tyler was almost shouting. “He tried to kill me-or at least he left me to die.”

Lucinda turned her heavy head away from Gideon and saw that Colin Needle was now standing in the parlor behind the kitchen women, his eyes wide and his face white with shock. What Tyler was saying must have upset him, although Lucinda couldn’t make much sense of it. In fact, she could barely remember where she was.

What’s wrong with me…?

“As everyone here knows, Gideon is not well and I am nursing him,” said Mrs. Needle loudly. “Do you want me to go out, Gideon? You have only to tell me and I will leave. Gideon? Do you want me to leave?” She finally caught the old man’s attention. He looked at her vaguely for a moment, then shook his head. “There. Do you see?”

“That’s… that’s…!” Tyler could hardly find the words.

“If you have nothing else to offer besides these horrid accusations, please leave this room and let your great uncle rest,” said Mrs. Needle sternly. “We will discuss your… astonishing behavior some other time… ”

“No way! I could have been killed! I was in Alamu’s nest and the dragon came back! Colin left me there to die! All so he could steal the Continuascope for himself!”

The women in the doorway gasped in shock. Lucinda couldn’t see Colin any more. Had he run away? Were the things her brother was saying true?

“The Continuascope, is it? Which has been missing since before Colin was even born?” Mrs. Needle looked like she was ready to dive in front of Gideon to protect him from Tyler. “And what is your proof of this absurd accusation?” She looked up. “Where is Colin?”

“Probably ran off to hide the evidence,” Tyler said.

Mrs. Needle was so pale and her face so angry that she looked more like a vengeful spirit than a witch. “In other words, you have no proof of any of this.”

Gideon suddenly sat up in bed, his face twisting with annoyed confusion. “What’s going on here? What’s going on?”

The door swung wider as Ragnar stepped into the room, big as a tree and clearly unhappy about something himself.

“Gideon,” the Norseman said, his booming voice filling the small, darkening parlor, “once again Hector Carrillo is at the front gate.”

“Send him away,” said Mrs. Needle quickly.

“Send him away,” Gideon echoed a moment later, but without much interest.

Ragnar shook his head. “No. Not again. This is a debt of honor-something you used to know about, Gideon Goldring, when you were a true thane. Carrillo and his family need answers from you. They have been offered much money. If they sell to that man Stillman, our home here-your farm, Gideon-will be in great danger. You have repaid him by ignoring him for weeks. No more.”

“What are you talking about, you impudent Dane?” Mrs. Needle was so furious now that little spots of red had appeared on her cheeks. “You have no right…!”

“I mean that Hector Carrillo is waiting at the inner gate,” Ragnar said calmly. “I brought him through and he is there now.”

“At the inner gate?” Mrs. Needle’s voice was close to a screech; Lucinda had never heard her so enraged. “You brought him onto the farm property? Have you lost what little wit you had?”

“Perhaps,” said Ragnar. “But I value my honor. Gideon is well enough now to talk with him. Don’t fear,” the big man said, turning to the others. “Carrillo has seen nothing but the house-no animals. But I will not send him away again… ”

Patience Needle turned to Gideon Goldring. “Do you hear what this fool has done, Gideon? Brought strangers onto your property, given away your secrets! And these cursed children whom you so kindly invited have also slapped your again. The boy is completely out of control, and now even the girl has been meddling with things in the garden that are none of her business… ”

“That’s a lie!” cried Lucinda. She tried to get up, but she was dizzy and her head felt like a blob of wet cement: she would have fallen if Azinza’s strong hand hadn’t caught her.

“Enough of your nonsense, witch,” Ragnar growled. “Let Gideon speak for himself.”

But Mrs. Needle was like an opera singer in the middle of her big scene-she was building up to her big conclusion. “Gideon, do you understand-the boy has been meddling in the dragon’s nest! God Himself cannot say what will come of that-you know how dangerous Alamu can be when he is disturbed. You really must do something, Gideon. These children are out of control and a stranger is on your land even as we speak, looking… spying…!”

“Spying? You and your creepy son are trying to steal this whole farm!” Tyler shouted at her.

“A stranger… ” Gideon peered out from beneath his bushy eyebrows as though he had only finally heard what was being said. His sallow face stretched in a grimace of distaste. “Here. On the farm

… ”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Needle, almost triumphantly. “Strangers! Our secrets will be uncovered. We will lose the farm-and you will lose Grace once and for all.”

“She lies, Gideon,” said Ragnar. “Just come and talk to Carrillo. He is an honorable man. He only wishes to speak about… about Stillman, and other things… ”

Gideon sat up straighter, struggling and quivering so that he looked like something being born out of the tangle of blankets. “You

… brought… a stranger… here?”

“It is Hector Carrillo, your neighbor!” Ragnar protested. “We owe much to him…!”

“Banish them,” hissed Mrs. Needle. “Send them away. They are traitors, all of them-Ragnar, the boy, the girl. They are all trying to steal the farm from you!”

“Steal my farm?” Now Gideon was fighting to get out of bed, his face almost purple with rage as he waved his arms like a drowning man, but he seemed bleary, slow, as if he truly were underwater. “Out! All of you, out! Out of my room, off my farm! I trusted you, but you betrayed me!” He turned his mad, staring eyes on Tyler and Lucinda. “And you children,” he said with what looked shockingly like actual hatred, “have done nothing but try to destroy what I’m doing here. Go away, all three of you traitors-get out of my sight! And never come back to Ordinary Farm! ”