Heart of Stone Ch. 13

Mary was noticing something else about being in the library, too. She got the distinct impression that she was being watched. She had felt it before from time to time, but she had attributed it to an overactive imagination. She was, after all, still becoming accustomed to spending time in secret rooms to learn about something that most people didn't believe existed. Taking the books upstairs had never occurred to her though. She felt like they were there for a reason. This watching was different. It was more intense, and almost constant. She noticed it was worse when she was in front of the portrait. Something about that gnawed at her.

The day before the meeting, Mary was sitting at one of the long tables with a small stack of books one either side of her. She took one from the pile on the left, flipped through the pages and closed it in frustration. She glanced up at the painting again. In all the months she had been coming down to the library she had always seen it as part of the background, rather like the paintings in the rest of the Hall. Still, it was a very grand adornment for a strictly utilitarian space. Not to mention the fact that even Mary knew that basements and other spaces that were prone to dampness weren't the best environments for paintings. She knew this room was a little different because of the protection spells someone had put on it, but the more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed.

Mary approached the painting with cautious curiosity. Her caution didn't really make a great deal of sense. It was only a painting. It wasn't as if it was going to spring off the wall and attack her. As Mary drew closer, she noticed that the background of this painting was every bit as detailed as the portrait of the twins, but the location was different. She was surprised to find it familiar.

Even though the gentleman in the foreground was dressed as though he hailed from a far more remote century, the background was most definitely the twins' sitting room, with a much smaller and less detailed rendition of their portrait over the fireplace. The pose made it clear that it was most certainly them. Mary sat down and stared at the painting. There were no pages being studied, as there were in the twins' painting, but she got the distinct impression that the connection wasn't a coincidence. She tried to take the painting down off the wall, but found it was far heavier than it looked. There was also the distinct feeling of a strong enchantment. She sat down again and waited for Aiden. She knew she wouldn't have to wait long, he was probably already up.

"Child?" She heard him call from the top of the stairs.

"Yes, down here." She called back. He appeared in the doorway a few minutes later, carrying a shawl for her. Since the weather had turned cooler in the evenings, he had become obsessed with her catching a chill. She hugged him close and let him wrap the shawl around her shoulders.

"You are spending far too much time down here." He murmured.

"I was looking for something." She answered, her body pressed against his.

"Have you found it?" His hands stroked her back.

"I don't know yet. Can you take that painting down for me?" She hadn't unwrapped her arms from around his waist yet. His wings sheltered her.

"Why?" She heard curiosity in his voice.

"I can't really explain it. Remember that thoughtform that was in the painting of the twins?" Aiden's hands stroked her back.

"Yes." She felt him raise his head, presumably to look at the painting. "That cannot be." He murmured.

"What can't?" Mary stepped back, letting him approach the painting more closely.

"This painting was in that one. This one must have been painted first, but the twins are in this one as well." Mary walked closer to him, looking closely at the picture. "There is something odd about all of this."

"Maybe this is the 'Watcher in the Knowledge'." She craned her neck to see if there were any painted out messages on this canvas, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"How could it be? There is no message." She could tell from the way he was moving that he was looking for the hidden text as well.

"That's why I wanted you to take it down. It's heavier than it should be, or I would do it myself." He looked at her curiously. "Nothing says the message has to be on the front."

"You may be right about that," He looked appraisingly at the portrait. "But we will examine it upstairs." Mary laughed.

"Whatever you like." She kissed his chest lightly and then stepped out of his way. Aiden groaned softy as he lifted the painting. He stepped closer to the wall, getting a better grip and position.

"You are right, this is much heavier than the other paintings in the house." He started toward the stairs.

"Let me help you get that upstairs." Mary trotted ahead of him.

"Nigel said you were not to lift anything." He held the painting out of Mary's reach.

"Nigel said I wasn't supposed to lift anything over thirty pounds, helping you guide a painting up the stairs -"

"I can manage, child. I would prefer it if you would walk ahead of me though. Something inside of this is shifting, and I do not wish to lose my balance with you behind me." Mary had never seen him lose his balance. His tail gave him stability in the air and on the ground. She didn't argue though. Mary climbed the stairs and watched as he ascended.

As Aiden emerged into the brighter light of the entry, she could see that the painting was more than just a canvas on a frame. There was a box-like structure on the back of it. He took the painting into the library and set it on the floor, propped against the sofa with the back facing outward. It was covered in tightly stretched old fabric, but it was clearly covering a box that was nearly two feet high, two feet wide and six inches deep.

Mary took a pair of sharp scissors out of her embroidery basket and started picking at the edges of the fabric.

"Allow me." Aiden sliced through it with one talon.

"I'll never get used to that." She laughed and tore the fabric back, revealing a metal box. Mary wasn't sure what the box was made out of, but she could tell that it was very old. She was fairly certain that the enchantment was keeping the box in such good condition. The small keyhole on the lefthand side that was surrounded by an engraved escutcheon. Mary recognized a the letter "B" and something that looked like a collection of random marks. There were two heavy bands of metal that held the two halves of the container together on either side of the keyhole. They seemed to be part of the locking mechanism.

"Aiden, is that a thoughtform?" It didn't have the circular pattern, but the markings seemed very deliberate. He moved closer.

"No. It is a name." He rubbed at the metal and leaned closer. Mary took a small flashlight and the heavy ring of keys out of her desk. She sat on the floor and handed him the light. The small flashlight was awkward in his hand, so he handed it back to her and sat down next to her. "Hold it for me, child."

She let him move her hand to the angle he wanted.

"Whose name is it?" She asked excitedly.

"Garrick, son of Jereg." He spoke softly.

"Is that someone you know?" Mary asked when explanation was not forthcoming.

"He is my father's grandfather, one of my clan's greatest leaders. There are those who said he had the gift of prophecy, but there are many stories about leaders that are exaggerated."

"Did you know him?" Mary lowered the light and leaned closer to Aiden. He smiled and pulled her closer with one of his wings.

"No, child. His time was over long before mine began. I grew up hearing stories about him though. Whoever made this box wanted to be certain that the link between my clan and your family was clear." He moved the box and painting closer. "Though if you do not have a key I am not certain we will be able to open it. It is very well made."

"Couldn't we just force those bands?" Mary was already searching through they keys to see if any even had potential.

"We could try, but I have seen containers like this before. The mechanical workings are more complex than they would appear. When these bands are released with a key, an internal mechanism is triggered, allowing the box to open. If they are cut or forced, the second mechanism does not release, and another further secures the box. If we cannot find a key, the secret may remain hidden." He tugged on the box and separated it from the painting. Mary took the much lighter canvas and set it aside. Aiden made a closer inspection of the box. He found no further engravings or any other obvious mechanisms. Even the hinges -- if there were any -- were inside the box.

Mary found three keys that might fit in the small keyhole. One looked far too new, but she decided to try it anyway. Before she put the first one in the lock though, she hesitated.

"Trying the wrong key won't make it impossible to open, will it?" She asked.

"I do not know. Is there more than one that might fit?" She showed him the three keys, and he agreed that the one she was going to try was the most likely candidate.

She put it carefully in the lock again, but it wouldn't go in. She tried the next one and found that it slid all the way in. She looked at Aiden and turned the key slowly. It resisted at first, then it turned. The first band opened, then the second. Aiden moved them carefully and then opened the lid.

"Mary?" Caroline came in. "What's that?" She noticed that Aiden paused. He trusted Caroline and always enjoyed her company, but Mary got the impression that he didn't want to reveal the contents to anyone else just yet.

"Something I found in the downstairs library." Mary said.

"Oh." She was clearly curious, but she didn't press the matter. "Anyway, I came in for my knitting. Did I tell you that Mrs. Corley at that little boutique in the village is selling my children's sweaters?" She crossed the room to get the large bag.

"No! That's terrific." Mary was genuinely pleased.

"Thanks." She blushed. Caroline had told Mary that she was often picked on for her love of knitting. "It's just consignment for now, but she's sold four of them already. I'm off to my knitting circle. Have a good night."

"You too." Mary loved having Caroline there, but she knew her friend needed to feel as though she had a purpose. Mary hoped this would give her a push in that direction. As soon as the door was closed behind Caroline, Aiden started to open the lid again.

This time, there were no interruptions. Mary and Aiden found a clearly old, but well preserved leather-bound volume that was only slightly smaller than the box that held it. Aiden reached in, but found his fingers were too large to fit into the small spaces around the book. Mary's hands fit. She lifted it out of box and opened the cover. Inside was a thick packet of folded pages wrapped in another piece of parchment. On the outside, written in a fine hand, was 'The Untrained Beeson Daughter'. The first heavy page of the book was blank, but on the next page there was a thoughtform. Aiden took the book, Mary took the letter.

Both began to read.

*

Author's Note: Information on blood typing was obtained from nobelprize.org.