The Riddles of Epsilon by Christine Morton-Shaw

Author:Christine Morton-Shaw
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2010-03-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

MY DIARY

I wish I could say that I was calm and together. But I wasn’t. For ages I just shook and cried and stammered and trembled. I just wanted to get out of there—to run.

But Epsilon took no notice. He just went to the desk and opened the top drawer. He took out the flute—the flute I’d first seen when I’d run down to the cottage after dreaming about Sebastian. The same old wooden flute, with its symbol of Epsilon carved on the mouthpiece—like a half feather, toppled over. Then Epsilon began to play. The same tune I’d heard in my dream.

I have never heard such haunting music. Never heard such a tune. It was as simple and as clean as water running downhill. It was as complex as many tapestries, all woven together.

And as he played, I relaxed a little, sitting fully now on the hammock. Epsilon played the flute with his eyes shut, which gave me a while to collect my thoughts, to try to grow calmer.

As the tune died away, he at last turned those piercing eyes on me.

“Now,” he said. “You must find the final piece of the puzzle. The final clue. The one that brings it all together.”

I nodded. I still couldn’t speak.

“As Martha’s note told you, it is hidden in a small space.”

I thought back to the note. “Master Cork is a gifted man—he has finished carving the swans on the Coscoroba pole. There is a small space hidden behind one of the swans.”

Master Cork. And Jerry Cork, carving all those intertwined swans on the Coscoroba pole. Maybe I could take a closer look at the Coscoroba tomorrow, before the Aroundy dance, whatever that was. One final clue. One that links all these things together.

I stared at Epsilon, trying to pluck up some courage. Speak, Jess. Speak!

“You look like a ghost!” was the first thing I managed to say. This made him smile.

“This is just one of my forms. I have others.”

I cleared my throat, tried to get my mouth moving properly again.

“Why is my mom in danger?” I blurted out.

The smile vanished. His eyes turned very grave. He stood up and began to move round the room, touching this and that as he spoke. His voice was quiet and calm.

“Curses are terrible things,” he said. “People tend to think they hold no power. But they could not be more wrong. They hold a great and terrible power. The words of the mouth are the mightiest weapon of all.”

I nodded. Not because I understood—I just couldn’t do anything else.

“Long ago on this island, a terrible curse was uttered on Long Beach. A curse that said that if the tooth was in the wrong hands, it could be used for misrule by the dark forces of the Lord of Inversion. By Cimul. But another word was spoken—that Cimul could never again steal the things he wanted to possess. They always had to be gifted to him, gifted to him by innocent hands.”

He went to the wall and touched briefly the golden letter O there.

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