Once they were in the tunnel, the noise of the river receded. The black walls were polished and smooth, and studded with gems, which flickered as they passed.
X turned over what Regent had told him in his mind. So Dervish had failed to bring X’s mother to the Lowlands. How humiliated he must have been! No wonder he hated her—and her son. No wonder he’d ranted and stamped and railed against X at every opportunity.
And Regent … Regent had plucked X’s mother out of the world. He had taken her life, her future, everything. No wonder he had done so much for X, even though it endangered him.
Cool air blew past them as they walked. The Ukrainian unzipped the top of his tracksuit, and gallantly handed it to Maud. He wore only a damp, sleeveless T-shirt now. X could see a field of curly black hair beneath it, as well as a silver necklace bearing a word he couldn’t read, though he recognized the letters: MAMA.
Maud slipped on the red jacket and tucked Vesuvius inside. The cat blinked at her happily, languorously, and was snoring before they’d gone 20 paces.
“I look foolish in your coat, don’t I?” said Maud. “Tell me the truth.”
“Truth?” said the Ukrainian. “Truth is, you look like my tenth-grade girlfriend. Remember, however, Reeper is only true love of mine, as one day I will inform her.”
The tunnel stretched indefinitely onward. For every hundred feet they walked, it seemed to grow another hundred. X was about to ask Maud to tell him his mother’s story, when strange sounds flooded past. First, it was a rush of footsteps over their heads, then the roar of a wave, which seemed to barrel toward them from the other side of the wall. X stared at the rock, waiting for cracks to appear, but the noise faded fast.
Then the tunnel swerved hard, and X was met with a startling sight. On each wall, there was a long row of hands jutting through rock. And they were moving.
Regent steered everyone to the center of the passage, and told them to stare straight ahead. But X kept watching the hands. The fingers were wriggling, spasming, clutching the air. There must have been sinners on the other side of the walls. Who knew what pain they were in, or what was being done to them that he couldn’t see? Two of the hands might have belonged to his mother. He felt sick as he passed.
When Regent let them rest again, X sat down next to Maud. She must have been as desperate to tell his mother’s story as X was to hear it. His first question—“How old were you when you went to work for my mother?”—had barely left his lips when the answer came tumbling out.
“I was fifteen,” said Maud. “I was a very scared little person. About the same height I am now, but skinnier. When I looked at myself, I saw only my nose, ears, elbows, and knees. So I tried not to look at myself. I also tried to be silent one hundred percent of the time, which my parents told me was my best feature. I don’t think they ever liked me very much.”
Maud put her hand inside the sort of kangaroo pouch she’d made for Vesuvius, and pet him as he slept.
“When I reminded the Countess that she had stolen Vesuvius from me? When I told Regent I would never leave Suvi behind?” she said. “I could never have done those things before I met your mother. Whatever I have for a backbone, I got from her.
“I remember knocking on her door. It was the first time I ever wore this dress. This was in Montana, in 1912—”
“Montana?” said X.
He’d meant only to listen, but couldn’t believe it was a coincidence that Regent had sent him to that very place as a bounty hunter. He looked to the lord, who was pacing again.
“Your mother liked the sky there,” said Regent. “That struck me as odd—for isn’t there sky everywhere? Yet I thought you might like it, too.” The lord seemed embarrassed by the admission. He made a shooing-away gesture. “Let Maud tell her story,” he said.
When X turned back to Maud, he saw that the Ukrainian, who sat across the passageway, was listening as well. X wasn’t sure he liked that. He already felt protective of his mother—like he wanted to hold her story close. But when he gave the Ukrainian a questioning look, the guard said, “What? Is interesting! You want I watch TV instead?”
Maud continued.
“I remember my hand being very cold when I knocked on your mother’s door. The knocker was a brass fox with a hoop through its teeth. I guess that’s not important, except that your mother’s husband thought of himself as very cunning and handsome, when he was actually a little knot of hate. Petty and cruel. Not that different from the Countess, in a way. He went by ‘Fernley.’ Your mother had been forced to marry him—something about adjoining farmland. She loathed him. He pretended he was a gentleman farmer—he had all these airs—but he was bad at everything. I remember him being confused by a rake one time. Your mother told me once, ‘It’s like he’s some sort of sea creature that’s been forced to live on land!’ She didn’t talk much, but you always knew where you stood with her because she never masked her feelings, as women were taught to—and when she did say something it was memorable. Fernley called her ‘honeybun,’ in a sarcastic kind of way, which she detested. So she called him Fern, which made him boil.”
Maud paused. X wasn’t sure why.
“I know your life’s been unfair,” she said. “I can’t even imagine. And maybe it’s not my place to say this—but it would have been unlivable if that man had been your father.”
X felt as if Maud were speaking for his mother somehow, like she was a conduit.
“I believe you,” he said.
“Your mother opened the door herself,” Maud went on. “I can’t tell you how beautiful she was. She was sort of framed in light. She looked like I wanted to look but knew I never would because of, like I said, the nose, ears, elbows, and knees. She used to wear her hair up while she worked. She could do absolutely anything on the farm, in the house, with the horses … But it was nighttime, so her hair was down. It was wavy and black, like yours. Her eyes were dark, but they never shut you out, they drew you in. She refused to use cosmetics. Fernley hated that because he didn’t want people to think they couldn’t afford them. Which they couldn’t. Anyway, I never saw a woman who needed them less. She was twenty-six, I think—and she only had nine years left to live.”
Maud frowned, and hugged her knees.
“I must have looked frightful, standing there in the doorway that first day. Terrified. Underfed. Clutching Vesuvius against my chest. I hadn’t told them that I’d be bringing a cat, and I was petrified that they wouldn’t let me keep him. But your mother smiled at me so warmly. She petted Suvi. She invited me in, as if I were a guest. She was showing me to my room—I’d expected a cot in the kitchen!—when Fernley accosted us in the hallway. He looked me over in the most humiliating way. I was fifteen! He was … Well, I forget exactly how old he was, but something like thirty-five. Finally, he looked at Vesuvius. ‘Put that disgusting thing in the barn,’ he said. ‘If I see it again, I’ll cut it open and stuff it.’ Your mother saw how upset that made me. When Fernley walked away, she said, ‘My husband will not harm your friend. He can barely slice a tomato.’
“But I did have to take Vesuvius to the barn, and he howled for a week. You’ve heard what he sounds like. The other servants warned me that Fernley wouldn’t put up with it. The cook said, ‘Your cat’s not long for this world, girl. Best steel yourself.’ I crept out to see Suvi when I could. I begged him to be quiet. But he always howled louder when I left. It was heartbreaking. One night when I went to the barn, the door swung open and gave me a start. It was your mother. She had been sneaking out to see Vesuvius, too—she’d been bringing him scraps of food! That may not sound especially brave, but believe me, it was. She might have mocked Fernley, but she dreaded his temper. We all did.
“Fernley would detonate over the tiniest thing. He was very prim and fussy, and he demanded that everything be just so. That silver comb you’re carrying was supposedly ‘electro-magnetic.’ It was very expensive, and supposedly cured headaches and prevented baldness. Fernley had written away for it. One time the maid who cleaned his chamber mislaid the comb for an hour, and he beat her for it. Obviously, the comb was found, but he still deducted the cost of it from the woman’s wages! That’s the sort of man he was. And honestly, he was already so bald that even if god himself had forged a comb for him, it wouldn’t have made a difference.
“When I saw your mother coming out of the barn, I was so moved that I cried. She hugged me, which is not something that employers did. It wasn’t something my own mother did! We just stood there in the darkness, and when Suvi began howling again, your mother started crying, too. I knew then that I would do anything for her.
“Fernley eventually relented, and let Vesuvius live in my room. It was only because he wanted me to be grateful to him. He wanted me to lower my guard.
“One night, I was in the kitchen, up to my elbows in suds. Alone. Fernley crept up behind me, and fondled me like he owned me. I tried to elbow him but missed. He spun me around so I was facing him, and—I won’t even call it a kiss—he pushed his horrible mouth at my lips. It was vile. A row of pots hung from a rack above us. I remember them banging over our heads as I struggled. I finally shoved him away, and I apologized. That’s how out of mind with fear I was—I apologized to him for attacking me!
“I fled up the stairs to your mother. She glowed with rage when she heard the story. She went to Fernley’s chamber, and found his beloved ‘electro-magnetic’ comb. He kept it—I swear to you—on a swath of red velvet, like it was the Holy Grail itself. Your mother snatched it up and, while Fernley watched in horror, combed Vesuvius with it. Fernley never touched the comb again.
“Afterward, your mother told me if I wanted to leave the household, she’d write me a sterling recommendation and give me the money she’d hidden in a boot in her closet. She showed me the boot—that’s how much she trusted me. But much as I loathed Fernley, I couldn’t leave her. So she elevated my position. She made me her lady’s maid, even though she didn’t need one, so I’d always be at her side and she could protect me. Fernley saw what she was up to, and seethed because she’d outsmarted him. I turned sixteen, seventeen, eighteen. Fernley leered at me constantly. Your mother was watchful—and I never went into a room unless there was at least one other person in it—and he didn’t get his awful hands on me again for a very long time.”