The Obsidian Dagger (Horatio Lyle) by Webb Catherine

Author:Webb, Catherine [Webb, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2009-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

And somewhere, not as far away as the coward in Lyle would have liked it to be, but close enough to alert the copper in him, someone, maybe even something, looked up slowly from its contemplation of black stones in a black darkness behind a black door, and said in the voice the earth would use if it talked, or the deep rumble heard in the mines when you’ve gone too far down, ‘Yes.’

And it stood up, and looked at the door, and began to smile.

CHAPTER 13

Earthquakes

The whole kitchen staff, half the housemaids and one or two footmen who should have been on duty had congregated in the kitchen. Their combined attention was fixed on Tate.

Tate ignored them, and focused whole-heartedly on eating his way through a substantial plate of cold meats that had appeared before him as if by magic as he’d scrambled out of Lyle’s bag and on to the table. The dusting of flour on the table showed his paw prints running directly from Lyle’s bag to the plate, and on either side of them ran a long, straight line where the tips of his ears had dragged.

The more Tate ignored everyone around him, the more they tried to get his attention. Every hand vied for the chance to scratch his chin or stroke his glossy coat.

Lyle all this time had been edging cautiously away. He reached the door, peered left, peered right, made a break for it, got two paces and . . .

‘Are you leaving so soon?’

Lyle turned. The head cook stood behind him, and still had the damn rolling pin in her hand.

‘I was just going to see if everything was all right.’

She advanced towards him slowly. ‘All right where?’

‘Down there?’ he hazarded, pointing down the corridor.

She smiled. It took him by surprise - the smile was light, warmer than her stern, determined gaze suggested, and almost made him want to smile back.

‘We aren’t allowed down there, Mister . . . ?’

‘Lyle,’ he replied quickly. And then, not knowing why he said it, ‘Horatio.’

She held out a hand. He found himself taking it in a daze.

‘Marley,’ she said. ‘I suppose I could tell you that my first name is Margaret, but that’s jumping into intimacies a little fast, isn’t it?’

‘Erm, yes . . . Why aren’t you allowed down there?’

Marley looked past Lyle at the gloomy corridor beyond. ‘It ’s the cellar down there. Mistress said we weren’t ever to go in. And considering how well she pays, I thought maybe it would be better to let curiosity slip on this one. Wouldn’t you, Mister Lyle?’

Lyle hesitated. ‘Well -’

‘It’s a nice dog you have.’

‘Thank you.’

‘What’s its name?’

‘Tate.’

‘You clearly spoil it.’

Lyle bridled. ‘Actually, it’s young Teresa who spoils Tate so shamelessly. I am always the one who has to tidy up afterwards and look after the children with, may I say, heroic temperance and . . .’

‘You’re not very good at being a servant, are you?’

Lyle turned red. ‘I’m new.’

‘It shows. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that you were more of a poli—’

And the ground shook.

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