Guardian of the Gate by Michelle Zink

Author:Michelle Zink [Zink, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780316088794
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2010-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

20

I am surprised to find several figures waiting when we disembark from the boat. Like our traveling companions, they are robed in deepest purple and lined up on the dock. I know from their fine features that they are all women. They seem to be waiting for us with some ceremony.

Edmund steps off with Sonia first, followed by Luisa. I wait with Dimitri, disembarking before him. When he introduces me as Amalia Milthorpe, Lady Abigail’s great-niece, the women bow formally in my direction, but naked suspicion and perhaps even resentment is evident in their eyes.

Once the rest of our party is properly introduced, Dimitri goes to the women, greeting each of them personally in low murmurs. Finally he reaches the woman at the head of the line. She is older, perhaps even older than Aunt Virginia, but when she pulls back the hood of her robe to kiss Dimitri’s cheeks, it is to reveal ebony hair without a touch of gray. It is twisted into such an elaborate knot that I think it must reach the floor when unbound. He says something to her quietly, and then looks my way. The woman nods and moves toward me, her gaze piercing mine. I feel suddenly violated.

Her voice is soft and smooth. It belies the fear she instills in me. “Amalia, welcome to Altus. We have long awaited your arrival. Brother Markov tells me you are quite tired and require protection and shelter. Please allow us the privilege of providing you with both.”

She does not wait for my answer, nor does she wait for me. She simply turns and begins walking up a stone pathway that seems to wind to the very top of the island. Dimitri reaches for my hand and takes my bag, leading me forward. The others fall into line, the robed women at the back of our strange group.

About halfway to the top of the hill, I begin to think I will not make it. My exhaustion, held at bay by the terrifying and frigid plummet through the ocean, resurfaces as we make our way on the peaceful island. It is a riot of color and sensation — the brilliant red of the apples on the trees that seem to grow wild everywhere I look, the many robed and half-hidden faces that are alternately mysterious and fearsome, the rich green of the grass along the side of the pathway, and the soft, sweet scent that reminds me of my mother. It is all there, but in an amalgam that is at once overwhelming and surreal.

Luisa’s voice, when I hear it, seems to come from within my own head. It is both louder and more muffled than usual. “Goodness!” she says. “Are there not carriages or horses? Any mode of transport that does not involve us trudging up this neverending mountain would suffice.”

“The Sisters believe that walking is good for the soul,” Dimitri says, and even in my current state I think I hear the humor in his voice.

Luisa is not amused.

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