Liam woke early, and though he still felt weak and drained from the previous day, his love for Benson forced him up from his bed and down the stairs. He crept through the rooms, letting the rest of the house sleep undisturbed.
As he slipped into the cool of morning, Liam rubbed his cheeks and nose, which were itchy with dried trails of salt. He’d kept his feet bare to hide the sound of his footsteps. The wet grass chilled him, and he sprang quickly over the lawn. He found Michael’s large spade leaning against the side of his cottage. He gripped the handle and hastened across the field to Benson’s fallen body.
The dog’s coat was dressed with dew, like little pearls. Liam crossed into the forest and found a patch of earth that was free of roots. He kept a hedge between himself and the house while he worked. His hands chafed on the shovel’s handle, but he would not let it slow him.
Benson’s body seemed smaller without life in it. Liam laid him in the damp hollow and covered him with earth and leaves. He patted the small mound as if it were his dog’s head. He whistled a tune his father had often whistled during his walks home at night in the dark. Liam had never known the name of it. If Benson could hear it, wherever he was now, he’d feel as if he were coming home. He felt his mother would have approved of this. He murmured a prayer for her.
Let her be well. Please, please make her better.
He looked again at the grave. Perhaps it was a good thing Dr. Parker had gone to the hospital. A new mission filled Liam’s mind.
Benson will be the last sick dog I’ll see, if I have something to say about it. I can’t just stand by and hate his research. I must do something.
Liam crept into the house and stood in front of the lab door, breathing through his mouth to keep silent. He twisted the handle and pushed. The door swung inward. The smell was violent and painful to his nose, but Liam ground his teeth and advanced.
Dr. Parker had drawn the curtains shut on all but one window, which poured light onto a long table covered with a stained tarp. The illumination exposed glass vessels of various shapes, a microscope, a note pad, a Bunsen burner, and an array of needles and sealed vials filled with liquids and powders laid out on trays with meticulous labels for everything.
“’Tisn’t the stuff itself that is evil,” Liam reminded himself, hearing Hannah’s words in his head.
Dr. Parker had begun his malaria research with admirable motives. Liam chewed his lip. But how could hurting other creatures be a good thing? How could Dr. Parker’s experiments that killed and maimed little dogs be good?
He looked at the frames on the lab wall. There was Dr. Parker’s certificate, declaring him a doctor of chemistry. Another frame held a newspaper clipping with the heading, “Bright Young Chemist Announces Daring Vaccine Research.” Liam leaned in to see a photo of Dr. Parker with arms thrown around the shoulders of two colleagues, all wearing the mortar board hats of graduates. Dr. Parker smiled with the same mysterious joy that Liam had witnessed when they’d all danced together.
There were no photographs anywhere of the first wife and child.
Perhaps Dr. Parker only wished to be famous and beloved again. The university had once been his home and community. He’d been famous and respected. Perhaps he wanted to belong to something large and purposeful.
Liam turned away.
I will not pity him.
He eyed the equipment on the table. He could, at the very least, break the glass vials and tubes and burn the lab notebook.
Something whimpered. He turned to look at the dog cages.
Two remained. One dog looked healthy enough. The other lay listlessly on its side. It barely raised its head to look at Liam when he neared it.
’Tis the heart of the person that makes it so, Hannah had said.
Liam frowned. It didn’t matter that Dr. Parker had a good reason for his work. He used it as an excuse to shout at his wife, terrorize his servants, and to torture little animals.
No—Liam gagged on his own disgust—Dr. Parker’s heart was bitter and angry, and no matter the reasons he gave for doing what he did, and no matter how much equipment Liam destroyed, he wouldn’t change his stepfather’s heart.
But there is something I can do that will make a difference, even if it’s a small one.
Liam went to the window and cranked open the ventilator pane. It would be large enough. He donned a pair of thick cowhide gloves from the table, then returned to the cages and carefully lifted the latches. The healthier dog growled at him, already disposed to hate humans. It bit his glove when he lifted it up, but did not bark. Liam pushed it through the window gap. The pup had only to land on its feet and sniff the open air before it sprang away. Liam performed the same for the sick puppy. It showed less promise of escape, but it soon lifted its ears to hear its brother, and set off at a slower pace.
The telephone rang in a distant room of the house.
As Liam watched the dogs disappear, he felt an awful heaviness. Dr. Parker would find more dogs, and he’d succeed in killing many of them.
But perhaps, Liam thought, if I can put right the things I’m able to change, this will be enough.
The door opened behind him.
Liam spun, his throat like an ice block.
It was Hannah. She had not finished dressing for the day, and her hair hung loose down her back.
“I thought I heard a noise in here.” She frowned slightly and waved for him to join her in the hall. “What are you doing up and about at this hour?”
When Liam did not answer her, she peered into the lab, noted the empty dog cages, and looked hard at him.
“You didn’t catch me doing anything,” Liam said.
“I see your voice has come back.” She raised one eyebrow, then shrugged and adopted a brisk tone. “That phone was Dr. Parker. He’s just phoned from Dublin.”
“How is my mother? Tell me the truth. I’m too old to have things kept from me.”
Hannah pressed her lips together. “There’s been a bad infection. That is why we pray.”
Liam shook his head. “May I see her? May I go visit her?”
Hannah sighed. “I’m afraid not. Dr. Parker has decided that you will be sent to a summer boarding school. He doesn’t deem it suitable for you to stay here with no parents to watch after you. I’m to help you pack your things.”
Boarding school. A place where he would know no one.
The sound of plates and water began in the kitchen as the servants prepared breakfast.
“I’m sorry, Young Master. I know this is sudden and no easy task for you. You must go upstairs and gather your things. There will be a hired driver come to collect you at noon.”
“But I don’t want to leave,” Liam said. He’d nearly added “you” to the end of the sentence.
The sound of smashing china came from the kitchen. Someone had dropped a dish.
“I don’t need help packing,” he said sullenly. “I can manage.”
He climbed to his room and knelt in front of his trunk. The small green book with gold stitching that Michael had given him lay at the bottom of the chest, tucked beneath a shirt.
Liam raced back down the stairs to the kitchen, book in hand. “What’s this? I thought Dr. Parker burned them all!”
Hannah looked up from the kettle and smiled. “He dropped it on his way to the hearth, and I couldn’t stop myself. I had to rescue it.”
Liam turned the pages. The Guardian’s story had survived.
When he raised his eyes to thank Hannah, she’d already disappeared.
Back in his room, Liam stood by his window. The sky had cleared again, and it was such deep a blue, Liam wondered if the color came from two skies nested together: that of his world and that of the Far Country. His throat pinched.
A shadow moved in the window of Michael’s cottage. A moment later, the gardener emerged. There was no dragon beside him.
Liam flew down the stairs, his packing task forgotten. Michael stood in the kitchen doorway, his face a craggy mountain of unreadable lines.
Hannah set down a large sack of flour and frowned at them both.
Liam looked at the ground.
Michael held out Liam’s crown. It was perfectly polished and restored to its shape.
“Put it on,” Michael said softly.
Liam held it for a moment, then placed it on his head.
“I’m ready to admit I might have been mistaken about you,” Michael growled. “The wee firebugs have not yet lost faith in you, and they’ve convinced me to give you another chance. I greatly wish to see happiness restored to Tir Na Nog. But first, do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“I was wrong to take what wasn’t mine,” Liam said. “I’m not a thief.” He slid a look at Hannah.
She watched them wordlessly, eyes round.
Michael nodded. “It’s your courage that will make all the difference. And you must use all that you’ve learned these last few days in your final test.” He paused and sniffed. “You’ve the smell of death on you.”
Liam wanted to laugh scornfully, but he didn’t have the strength. “I’ve just buried my dog, who was my friend since I was very young, and the first gift I can remember my father giving to me. My mother is at hospital and I don’t know whether she’ll live, and I’ve not been allowed to see her.” Liam suddenly wondered if this was what it felt like to be old. He whispered, “There’s death everywhere.”
“I’m sorry for your dog. You gave him a happy life, and don’t forget it,” Michael said kindly. “And your worry for your mother has filled up your heart. I reckon there’s even more grief in you. Not of the living and breathing kind.” Michael cocked his head. “Ink and smoke.”
“His books,” Hannah said.
Liam’s rage returned. “They’re burnt. And so are my maps. All but this and one map I’ve since drawn, but it isn’t any good.” Liam lifted the book of the Guardian’s story. It had remained in his hand when he’d run downstairs. “The story of the Guardian owes its life to Hannah.”
Michael made a bow in Hannah’s direction.
“Dr. Parker thinks my books are foolish,” Liam said.
Michael cursed under his breath. His eyebrows bristled like porcupine quills. At last he said, “You’ll have more books. And you’ll draw more maps. He can’t take it from you. It’s sewn into your soul.”
Liam added, “And I’ll be sent off to boarding school later today.”
“’Tis true,” Hannah added.
Michael closed his eyes and spoke. “The path between the Far Country and this world is near to closing, for the fifth day is upon us. It was strongest on the third night when Dr. Parker led you all in dance, but it will fade tonight. Another opening will not come again for five years. There’s no time as it is for delay or for questions.” He clapped his hands. “You must set out at once.” He turned his face toward Hannah, as if he could see her, or perhaps he could smell the steady comfort that always flowed from the woman. Michael held out a hand, as if asking for a dance. “I must take him for this, Miss Mallory. I’m asking for your blessing.”
Hannah nodded solemnly and pressed his hand. “Godspeed.”