Happenstance Found (Books of Umber #1) (9 page)

Umber bounced on the balls of his feet. His eyes gleamed. “Really now?”

“That’s not all, Lord Umber. Others in my crew were in the market this afternoon. They say a stranger is wandering around asking questions. I think he’s looking for Hap.”

“What!” cried Hap. He nearly fell off the box, but Poncius steadied him.

“It’s true,” Sandar continued. “My first mate Jonas saw the stranger himself. He said it was a tall fellow in a weird sort of cloak. And his whole face was covered by a sack of gauze, with a single eyehole on one side. Jonas said the stranger had an odd manner of walking as well, like a long-legged bird. He just calls him the Creep now, he frightened him so.”

“The Creep,” Umber repeated, smiling.

Sandar shook his head. “The Creep asked Jonas, in a whispery sort of voice, ‘Have you seen anyone with eyes like these?’ He held out his hand—hands with gloves on them, even on this warm day—and showed Jonas a pair of sparkly green marbles. Jonas said they looked just like Hap’s eyes.”

Hap put his fingertips to the corner of his eyes. His legs felt numb. He heard Poncius gulp beside him.

“What did Jonas do?” asked Umber.

“Jonas is no fool. He told the Creep he knew nothing,” Sandar said. “The Creep said Jonas should come to the docks at midnight if he learned the whereabouts of this green-eyed person, and he would be rewarded. Then he showed Jonas a bag filled with gems.”

“Perfect,” Umber said, clapping his hands.

“Perfect?”
Hap cried, as his voice cracked. “How is that perfect?”

“Perfect because we know where and when to find this Creep. At midnight, we’ll set a trap for our pursuer, and find out what he wants. Don’t look so down, Hap! Let’s not presume he’s evil. Perhaps he’s a friend, with information. Maybe this will help us solve the mystery of you.”

Hap’s shoulders slumped. “I suppose.” But he’d read the note. He knew better.

Umber rubbed his hands together. “For now, while this Creep is lurking about, we should get you back to the Aerie. Poncius, we’ll take all that stuff, and what Hap is wearing now. Throw in some everyday garments as well. And quick, find us a hat.”

The hat looked like an enormous blue acorn, but Hap was pleased to put it on and pull its brim down. They walked briskly through the crowd, with Oates in front and Umber and Sandar at his sides, heading for Umber’s carriage.

“Hap, let’s try to keep your abilities a secret for the time being,” Umber said. “I wouldn’t go leaping about, for example. And wear that hat just like you’re doing. Just to be safe.”

“Lord Umber?” Hap said quietly.

“Hmm?” Umber’s eyes darted left and right across the market.

“About that note …” Hap’s voice faltered. He wanted to tell Umber that he’d read at least part of the message from WN. It would be a relief to talk openly about this “Creep” who might be the creature named in the message. And he ached to know what the rest of the strange contents of the note might mean: What sort of skills were supposed to arise in him? What was the ancient law that he violated merely by existing? What did WN mean when he wrote to Umber about “that world of yours”? And, most of all, what did the rest of the message say?

But the guilt of spying and the fear of how Umber might react overwhelmed him, and he couldn’t squeeze out the confession. Before he gathered his strength to try again, Umber spoke.

“Now, Hap. I know you’re curious about the note. But I already told you. I’m not going to—”

Umber ended the sentence abruptly as the crowd before them shifted. A tall figure in a pale cloak stood a few strides away. His head was covered by a sack of gauzy material, with a single ragged hole for one eye. He was leaning on a staff and towering over a merchant whose table was covered with candles. Hap saw a large gloved hand come out of the long-sleeved cloak, cupping a pair of glittering green spheres. And he heard, quite clearly, the hoarse, whispering voice:
“… with eyes like these?”

CHAPTER
11

“The Creep,” whispered Sandar
.

Hap didn’t mean for his head to jerk up and lift the brim of his hat. It happened instinctively as he tried to get a better look at the stranger. At the same moment, the candle seller, looking for help, glanced in Hap’s direction. The man’s mouth dropped open, and the gesture caught the Creep’s attention.

Hap lowered his face to shield his eyes as the Creep’s gauze-covered head snapped around. The Creep came toward them, putting himself in the middle of the lane with one enormous stride. There was a disturbing, unnatural quality to the way his legs shifted inside his long cloak.

“Step away from the little one,” he said. He sounded like a man who’d shouted all day and lost his voice. The sun shined into the ragged hole in the sack that masked his face, and Hap glimpsed a blue eye inside. It was nested in a raw, wounded-looking socket. The Creep blinked, and a wrinkled lid flapped across the eye.

Oates widened his stance and crossed his arms, and Sandar put a hand on the hilt of his sword. Umber cleared his throat and spoke. “Hello, stranger. Perhaps we should introduce ourselves?”

Hap gritted his teeth. He’d had enough of keeping his face down and stealing glances; he wanted to see what was happening. When he looked up, and his green eyes were revealed, the Creep shuddered, and a foul slurping sound came from behind the gauzy mask.

“Leave him for me,” the Creep said. He took another long stride forward, halving the distance between them. For just a moment, the tip of the Creep’s bare foot poked from the bottom of the cloak. His toes were long as fingers, splayed wide, and each ended in a hooked yellow nail.

“I don’t think he’s a friend,” Hap said, stepping back.

Beside him, Sandar quietly drew his sword. “Steady, Happenstance.”

The crowd sensed something was about to happen. The people drew back, creating an arena in the center with spectators at either end. Behind the Creep, two of the Kurahaven Guard pushed their way into the open space and drew their sabers. They jutted their jaws, eager for a fight. One of them took a hunter’s horn from his belt and blew a piercing note. The Creep’s head listed at the sound, but he didn’t turn to look.

Umber stepped up beside Oates and spoke to the Creep. “Tell me your name, and what you want. And why don’t you take that cheesecloth off your head so we can know you better?”

The Creep responded with a hiss. He pulled off one glove, and then the other, revealing bony hands with elongated fingers. He raised the staff over his head.

“Hold! Don’t move!” called one of the guardsmen. They strode toward the Creep with the points of their sabers outstretched.

The Creep tugged on the head of his staff, sliding out a long blade that was concealed inside. He flung the empty wooden sheath at the soldiers. It struck one of the young men at the waist, crumpling him. The Creep arched back as the other soldier charged. His long leg shot out and his clawed foot struck the second guardsman in the chest, flinging him backward into the crowd. People screamed and ran.

“Oates,” Umber said coolly. Oates seized one end of the candle merchant’s wooden table and flung it. A hundred candles of every color and shape scattered in the air. The Creep turned too late; the table walloped him across the stomach. He was batted across the street, bowling through benches and tables as he flew, and hit the side of another small tent. The canvas swallowed him whole, and the tent collapsed in a heap.

A silent pause followed. The crowd gawked, Oates picked a splinter out of his palm, and dozens of spilled candles rolled to a stop.

Umber rubbed the side of his face. “Overkill, Oates? I hope you left something alive for us to talk to.”

The guardsman who’d been hit by the staff limped toward the crumpled tent. The saber trembled in his fist. “What was that thing?” he asked, coughing. He prodded the canvas with the saber.

“You ought to be careful,” Umber called, raising his hand. But he’d hardly gotten the words out when the guardsman screamed, stumbled back, and clamped a hand on his thigh. A blade had pierced the canvas of the fallen tent, and the silver tip was stained red. The blade cut a wide slit and the Creep bounded out, landing in a crouch. His head swiveled until the eyehole found Hap.

Umber spoke with his hand covering his mouth. “Hap, remember what I said about not jumping or drawing attention? Disregard that. We’ll try to stop him, but run if you have to.”

The remaining spectators had seen enough. They stampeded out of the market. Parents slung the youngest ones over their shoulders and dragged older children by the hand.

Oates heaved a bench at the Creep, but this time the stranger was ready, and he ducked low. The bench shattered in the lane a hundred feet away. Before Oates could find another piece of furniture to throw, the Creep rushed at Hap. Sandar stepped in his path. Their blades clashed. The Creep’s clawed foot darted up again, and Sandar tumbled through the air. Umber made a vain attempt to trip the Creep by sticking out his foot. The Creep could easily have run Umber through with his sword, but his attention had locked onto his green-eyed prey.

Hap whirled and ran, into a new group of five guardsmen who’d responded to the call of the horn. They let Hap through and spread out shoulder to shoulder. Hap stopped on the other side of the blockade and turned to watch.

The Creep skidded to a halt in front of the guardsmen. He flashed his sword back and forth, whipping the air. Hap heard the terrible slurping sound again.

“Drop that blade!” shouted the leader of the five. The Creep coiled and sprang. His tall, arcing leap cleared the heads of the five startled men.
I’m not the only one who can jump,
Hap thought. The middle guardsmen slashed upward with his sword, splitting open the bottom of the cloak but missing the Creep’s limbs.

The Creep would have landed on Hap, but Hap responded with a leap of his own, his highest yet. Twin jolts of fear and exhilaration surged from his heart as he soared to the top of the nearest tent, his new hat flying off his head. If the Creep was surprised, he didn’t let it stop him. He gathered himself and bounded toward Hap’s perch. Hap left before the Creep arrived and touched down in the lane. Before he bolted, he heard one of the guardsmen call out: “It’s like a frog chasing a grasshopper!”

Hap ran to where Umber knelt beside the wounded, groaning Sandar. Oates had pulled the long, thick support pole out of the fallen tent, and he stood ready to wield it as a club. “There—he disappeared between two tents,” Oates said, pointing.

As Hap turned to look, he saw a flash of motion in the other direction. The Creep had shot down an alley, circled the tents with alarming speed, and emerged on the other side of them. A terrible realization dawned on Hap: He was putting his new friends in danger by staying near them.

Hap leaped again, to the top of the candle seller’s tent. His feet slipped when he landed and he sprawled on the canvas, seizing the tent pole so he wouldn’t slide off.

Hap looked back with his breath caught in his throat, expecting to see the Creep swooping down upon him. But Oates had swung the club, splintering it on the ground as the Creep stepped back. The Creep’s foot came down on a candle, which rolled underneath him, and he stumbled wildly before catching his balance. One of his feet kicked high in the air, and Hap saw most of the Creep’s legs through the tear in his long cloak. Hap nearly lost his grip when he realized why the Creep’s gait was so strange. His knees bent the wrong way: backward, like a long-legged bird’s. “He’s not human!” cried Hap.

“I know! I saw it too!” shouted Umber, grinning widely. Sandar looked at Umber as if he’d lost his mind.

“Stand still so I can hurt you,” Oates said to the Creep, waggling what was left of his club. The Creep sprang again. Hap’s feet slipped as he tried to find purchase on the slick canvas. When he glanced over his shoulder he saw the pale figure soaring up toward him with the torn cloak flapping in the wind.

The roof of the tent bounced underneath him. Hap looked down and saw the Creep clinging to the tent with one hand, just below his feet. The Creep’s sharp fingernails punctured the canvas, holding him in place. In the other hand, the Creep still had the long blade, which cut the air with a
whoosh,
right at Hap’s legs.

Hap drew his legs up. He felt the tip of the blade strike the heel of his shoe and sting his flesh. The Creep dug into the tent with his sharp toenails, and lunged closer. The hand groped for Hap’s leg. Hap opened his mouth to scream.

The Creep suddenly bent sharply at the waist and flew off the roof of the tent, letting out a loud, hoarse
OOF!
A huge fist had punched through from inside the tent.

Hap heard Oates shout from below. “Got you! Wait, that wasn’t Hap, was it?”

“No, it was him,” Hap said in a quivering voice. A small, glittering sphere fell out of the sky, hit the roof of the tent, and rolled toward Hap. It was one of the Creep’s green marbles.
How strange,
Hap thought as he watched something that resembled one of his own eyes roll by.

The Creep crashed to the ground in the lane. He shook his masked head and pushed himself to his feet. He wobbled and nearly fell, as if one of his strangely jointed legs had been broken.

Three more guardsmen arrived, armed with bows. They kneeled and fired, and a trio of arrows whistled through the air. One missed, one snagged in a loose fold of the Creep’s robe, and one lodged in his shoulder. He grunted, plucked the arrow out, and flung it to the ground. As the archers prepared to fire, the Creep threw his head back and let out a harsh, piercing cry. Hap would have clapped his hands over his ears if he hadn’t needed to hang on to the tent pole.

The Creep was trapped between the archers and the swordsmen, and Hap heard the stomp of more boots approaching.

Umber stepped into the street and raised both hands, palms out. “Wait! Don’t fire!” He pressed his hands together and turned to the Creep. “Your name is Occo, isn’t it?”

The Creep had been staring up at Hap with his shoulders heaving, but his head snapped toward Umber when the name was spoken.
It’s him,
Hap thought.

Umber spread his arms wide. “Look, Occo—you’re surrounded. And you’re wounded. Surrender and let us talk! Before more blood is spilled!”

Occo replied with a hiss. The archers drew back their bowstrings, but turned to look over their shoulders as a dark swift shape approached from behind. It was a horse of some kind, but with a ridged, hairless hide. There was a bit in its mouth and reins, but no saddle. The archers leaped aside to keep from being trampled.

The strange horse barely slowed as Occo grabbed its reins, swung awkwardly onto its back, and rode away. An instant later, a band of mounted guardsmen thundered down the lane in pursuit.

“Stay up there, Hap!” cried Umber. “You have eyes like an eagle—tell me what’s happening!”

Hap pulled himself to the peak of the tent and watched the chase with one hand shading his eyes. “I don’t—wait, now I see them again! They’re right behind him—he’s heading for the harbor.”

Occo hurtled toward one of the gateways in the harbor wall. The guardsmen stationed there scrambled, but couldn’t shut the doors in time to stop the horse.

Hap lost sight of the Creep for a moment as the wall blocked his view. “I can’t see—hold on, there he is!” Occo steered his horse onto a narrow pier that jutted into the harbor. The horsemen in pursuit cut off any hope of escape. “He’s trapped!” Hap shouted. Then he squinted, trying to see better, because something was happening to Occo’s horse. He wasn’t sure what to tell Umber next. What he saw didn’t seem possible.

The horse was
transforming
as it raced to the end of the dock. The neck stretched and stiffened. The ridges on its hide grew more pronounced. At the end of the planks, the horse took a great leap over the water. The transformation continued as it soared. The front legs folded against the body and vanished. The hind legs clapped together and fused, and the hooves broadened into something like a fish’s tale.

The creature hit the harbor and threw up a foaming wave on either side. It churned forward and submerged a moment later. The mounted guardsmen pulled back on their reins at the edge of the dock, and their horses pranced nervously on the planks.

Hap looked down at Umber with his mouth hanging open. “He got away.”

“Got away? But how?” asked Umber.

“The … the horse … it turned into a … a …
sea horse
.”

“Turned into a sea horse? You mean, by magic?” Umber stamped the ground with his boot. “Bloody bells, I can’t believe I missed it!”