The Last Apprentice: Night of the Soul Stealer by Joseph Delaney

Author:Joseph Delaney
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Horror & Ghost Stories, Fantasy & Magic
ISBN: 9780060766269
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2005-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XIII

Trickery and Betrayal

SOON the house was directly ahead, with brown smoke rising from the chimney pots telling me that warm welcoming fires were waiting within.

I knocked at the back door. My key would open most locks, but I didn’t use it. As I’d been away for a while, it seemed more polite to wait to be invited in. I knocked three times before the door was finally opened by Meg, who smiled at me before stepping back to welcome me inside.

“Come in quickly out of the snow, Tom!” she exclaimed. “It’s good to see you back.”

Once inside, I removed my cloak and sheepskin jacket, leaned my staff in the corner, and stamped the snow from my boots.

“Sit yourself down,” Meg said, guiding me across the flags to the fireplace. “You’re shivering with cold. I’ll make you a cup of hot soup to warm your bones. That’ll have to do for now—I’ll cook you a nice big meal later.”

I was trembling more than shivering, upset by what had happened in Morgan’s room, but gradually I began to calm down. I did as I was told and warmed my hands at the fire, watching my boots begin to steam. “It’s good to see you’ve still got all your fingers!” Meg said.

I smiled. “Where’s Mr. Gregory?” I asked, wondering if he’d been called away on spook’s business. I hoped he had, because that would mean he was fit and well again.

“He’s still in bed. He needs all the rest he can get.”

“So he’s not that much better yet?”

“He’s improving slowly,” Meg answered. “But it’ll take time. These things can’t be rushed. Try not to disturb or burden him too much. He needs to rest and sleep as much as he can.”

She brought across a steaming cup of hot chicken soup, so I thanked her and sipped it slowly, feeling it begin to warm my insides.

“How’s your poorly dad?” she asked suddenly as she settled herself down in her rocking chair. “Is he getting better now?”

I was surprised that she’d remembered that, and her question brought tears to my eyes again. “He died, Meg,” I told her. “But he’d been very ill.”

“That’s sad, Tom. I’m so sorry. I know what it’s like to lose family. . . .”

I felt the pain of losing Dad wrench my stomach and thought of what Morgan had done to his spirit. Dad didn’t deserve that. I couldn’t let it happen again. I had to do something.

Meg fell silent and stared into the flames. After a while she closed her eyes and started humming a tune very quietly under her breath. When I’d finished the soup, I went across and put the cup on the table.

“Thanks, Meg. That was really good,” I told her.

She didn’t reply and seemed to be asleep. It was something she often did, fall asleep in her rocking chair near the hearth.

I didn’t know what to do now. I’d hoped to speak to my master about Morgan, but he was clearly not well enough to be bothered with it.

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