The Heartwood

Chapter 7

Already dressed for the task, Asher does not waste time in leaving the estate. Lynna is still away when he deposits the dishes into her kitchen. He stuffs a loaf of bread into a cloth bag and then retreats out the back porch, hoping to make up for lost time.

The day brings an overcast layer of thin clouds and London smog to the sky, not entirely obscuring the blue but certainly muting it. The leaves do not stir on the trees and the boy takes extra care not to rustle the branches that he brushes against.

He thinks he is the most-skilled individual capable of doing this.

It is second nature to hitch a ride behind a tired cart driver. The oppressive weight of the summer air helps to lull the working class into a stupor and Asher is not immune once he is settled. Bumping along over the uneven wheels of his adopted carriage, he thinks about his new instructor and whether he is destined to a promising or perilous relationship with the curious man.

Had Darren Kingsley really been a warrior once? Can a person want to leave such an exciting vocation? Had he killed many people, and how would Asher's parents feel if they found out? Can Asher use this to control Darren? How did the man get recommended to Asher's family? What does this "Chiron" truly want? The boy ponders these things uninterrupted for a long stretch of the journey.

As the carriage rattles under an overhanging branch, though, Asher catches eyes with a large, fat crow. It gives a guttural croak as if to greet him before twisting its head down to scrape a thick, sharp beak across its perch. The boy raises his brows at the creature. As the cart rolls out of its sight, he hears it laugh. Another bird answers from his far left in reply.

Asher remains unnoticed as he disembarks by a vivid red scarf, not five minutes later. Having lost an hour due to breakfast and unexpected interviews, the boy forgoes his usual route to the mushroom ring in order to directly confront the prominent maw of the Heart Wood house.

Before he can enclose his small hands around the bell's string, though, the door swings open revealing the Count himself. Mr. Fry starts as much as his guest, and both recover themselves with some immediacy.

"Good day," chirrups Asher, beaming jovially.

With one bare hand on the shining door handle and the other clutching a pair of white gloves, the Count settles into his usual mask of careful disinterest. "Mr. Walsh. To what do I owe the pleasure of another visit?"

Asher straightens, making the cloth bag obvious at his side. He minutely shifts into the spot right in front of the door so that the man cannot stride past him and conveniently along his way should he choose to issue a quick dismissal. Asher will force the Count to slam the door in his face which, while rude, may actually be the scene playing out behind Mr. Fry's eyes. They are a muted blue, Asher notices. Like the sky - hazy grey. They were brighter before. Deeper...

Aware that the man is expecting an answer of some sort, Asher holds his ground and announces, "I have a new tutor!"

This proclamation does not melt the shell of the other man, nor coax a curiously raised brow or subtler smile. Mr. Fry shifts as if encouraging his invader to move, saying, "I would recommend another choice to your parents if your new instructor cannot keep you at your studies."

"I got the day off," Asher justifies, shifting to keep the territory in front of the other's path. "This instructor is The Chiron!"

Mr. Fry hums. It is not meant to be encouraging.

"From your readings," the boy adds. "You said I would -"

"I do recall the events of last week," snaps the Count, pulling his gloves over his pale fingers with a hastiness that reflects the tone of his voice. "The cards are always accurate, Mr. Walsh. The Chiron was meant to be and you are dangerously close to the rest of the fate foretold by the cards. Have you come seeking reassurances or answers, for I am a busy man and such tasks require appointments, Sir."