Chapter 1
There once was an old woman with a magical house. Every now and again the house would grow a new room, and the old woman would know it was time to expect guests. She never knew who would come, or when, just that someday there would be someone in need of that room, and it was her sacred duty to keep it ready for them.
She and the house had an odd sort of relationship, almost symbiotic. The house needed her as much as she needed the house. I was never sure where the magic came from for those extra rooms, but my guess is that it was from the bond between them. She needed guests to be happy, so the house supplied them.
As you might expect, after years of organic growth the house was a great shambling thing sprawled across a hillside, like something from one of those magical Japanese movies. In fact, the house was so odd it was a wonder anyone ever dared approach it seeking help. But I guess word had got around that the place was safe after all.
So that’s why Zephan turned up on a Friday. Trying to look nonchalant, he lifted the old-fashioned door-knocker, only to have the door swing wide. Inside was a cheery little parlor with a fire blazing on the hearth and the old lady knitting a great shawl in one of those bright colors whose names never seem to match the color themselves, like puce or vermillion. “What an odd color!” said Zephan out loud, before he could help himself.
“Do you think so?” The old lady peered at the shawl. “I have wondered myself. But this is what Mrs. Oddsworthy asked for specifically. She does have the most extraordinary taste.” She stopped, laid aside her knitting, and rose. ‘Oh, but do come in. I am Mrs. Stone. I see you have been invited. I have just the room for you.”
Zephan’s mouth, which had gaped a bit during this last bit, hurriedly shut, then opened again and said, ” I don’t know what you mean. Invited?”
Zephan followed silently behind Mrs. Stone, but his mind was agitated. He turned over her few words in his mind, much like a jackdaw would look for jewels among pebbles. What did she mean by saying only a fortunate few are welcomed here? Hadn’t he decided on his own to take a bruiser’s dare? No one invited him! Rather than get another beating, or worse, make his mother worry, he’d decided to just get it over– a knock on the door of the strange old house. He didn’t really believe the stories that said people had gone in and never come out again. Did he?
Mrs. Stone turned in mid-stride, as if jerked around by Zephan’s doubts, and said, rather sharply, “I’ll not have you fretting, boy, for this house is as good as she comes. No one is ever held against their will. You are free to come and go as you will.”
‘But why am I here?” Zephan demanded.
“Well, I don’t know,” she said crisply, shaking out her skirts and turning to go on. “The house hasn’t told me yet. This way please.”
After a few more corridors (Zephan had lost count) they stopped in front of a green oak door with Zephan’s name on it!!! This is too weird! I am outta here first chance.
The door swung open (again! he thought), and a whispery voice from inside said, “Welcome Zephan. If you choose, you may spend happy years here.”
Zephan could see no one inside the room, just a bed, a desk, and a chair drawn up to the fire. And books, more books than Zephan had ever seen.
“Well?” Mrs. Stone smiled.
Zephan shifted uncomfortably. I have to tell my mom. Then I’ll come back. For a while. To see.”
“Give my love to your mother, please. She was such a sweetheart during her stay here. Always looking out for other people. I expect she still is.”
Zephan edged through the door, hoping his mother wouldn’t notice, but of course, she did.
“Zephaniah? Where have you been? I wanted you to go and get more goat cheese from Mr.Raintree before nightfall.” She spoke quietly, without reproach.
Zephaniah grimaced. He had forgotten. “I went to the old house on Hearthstone Hill. You know the one. Chocko had dared me, and I thought you would rather have me go than have me come home with torn and dirty clothes again.”
“Really? You went there? Did you try the door?”
Zephaniah was puzzled by her eager response. But then he remembered she had been there too. “Yes”, he said, ”Mrs. Stone said to say hello.” A pause. “I’ve been invited.”
Zephaniah didn’t expect what happened next. There was silence from his mother. Then she said, voice trembling, “Oh my son, I have prayed for this day.” She paused, and ran her hand through her short brown curls. “I spent a year there, learning how to live wisely. Then I was told I would have a son, and he was to be treasured by God. That’s why I named you Zephaniah.”
Zephaniah sank into a chair, his head suddenly spinning. The fire in front of him swam in his vision as he recalled that strange moment half a year ago. A voice had called his name from another fire. No one else heard it. He thought he imagined it. But now he wasn’t sure.
Zephaniah rolled his shoulders, trying to release some tension, and then rubbed his hands across his face. He didn’t know what to do now. Voices calling him from flames! He must be crazy!
“Mom, please tell me everything you can about the house and that old woman who seems to run it. She asked me to come back. If I am to go back, I need to know who they are and what they want.” He spoke quietly, but with a firmness he only used in situations that demanded it.
“Her name is Mrs. Stone. As far as I can tell she is as old as the house and still going strong. She is solid as a rock, immovable in her opinions, flinty-eyed when it comes to mischief, but she has broad shoulders and a soft heart for the sorrowful. Go to her when you are in trouble and you will receive unfailing aid,”
“But the house, Mom?”
“I don’t know, honey. All I know is that people staying there are given jobs to do, some of them pretty heroic. Like the time Lester had to lead a herd of sheep off the mountain in a crashing thunderstorm at night. Good thing he and his dog know that mountain like the back of their hands,” she sighed. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“Can I trust them?” Zephaniah asked.
“With your life, ” she said swiftly. She reached out for him and he took her hand.
“It is alive, Zephaniah. It knows what you want and what you need, and when to give them both. It is like the world’s best parent, only it never speaks directly, only indirectly. And it is full of love, infinite love, for each one within it. Always room for one more. It always seems to know when someone’s coming. It’s the house that tells Mrs. Stone, you know.”
The snap of resin popping and wood burning was the only sound for a while. Both mother and son seemed far away, in quiet conversation with themselves. Finally, Zephaniah roused himself. Something had changed in him.
“I will go.”
Zephaniah paused on the doorstep before entering. Again the door swung open. It wasn’t often doors swung open soundlessly at his approach, he thought to himself. No word, no knock, no touch even. Well, Mom had said it was alive. He stepped across the threshold.
Sconces on the wall flared one by one, lighting a path for him. The hall was long, with doors closed on either side, and no hint as to what lay beyond. He walked maybe 100 yards and then stopped. There was no sound of human activity of any kind. Is the place empty? He wondered, Or is everyone asleep? “Hello?” he called.
“Hello.” Mrs. Stone emerged from an alcove that must have been ahead. “Welcome back. Are you ready to begin?” She was dressed in a red velvet robe trimmed with sable, quite regal compared to the last time he saw her. Her hair was swept up and pinned with a diamond clasp.
Zephaniah blinked. “Where is everyone?” he asked.
“This is a private moment,” she responded, “one of great gravity. We honor it by giving you room and time for introspection. Your room is available to you as long as you need it. Everything that you need for your journey is also available to you there. If you need anything, simply ask out loud and you will be heard.” She bowed solemnly, then said, “Know this. You are not alone,” and turned and left him, disappearing into the same hidden alcove from which she had come.
Zephaniah blinked again. That was strange! he thought to himself, but maybe it will be clearer after I find my room. Looking around, he saw the lights now extended in a new direction; where the corridor met in a T intersection, then turn left, then off to the right into a small, somewhat shadowed alcove. He approached the door soberly until the placard on its front could be read.
Shock, then awe, then confusion registered on his face. Was this his mission?
The sign on the door held three words.
WELCOME, FUTURE PRIEST
Chapter 2
In the last of the evening twilight, Zephaniah returned from visiting his mother. He picked his way up the rocky slope to the House. Funny! he thought, how everyone says ‘the House’ like it was capitalized. Maybe it was.
As he approached the front door, it swung wide. A ginger cat was waiting for him just inside the doorway. It stood up and stretched, and thrrpped at him to follow. Zephaniah smiled.
As they made their way down the hallway, now lit by sconces along the walls, Zephaniah noticed many closed doors, each a different color. Then they came to his purple door, with his name on it. The cat gave an imperative mmrroww for him to open the door, and then entered the room first as if it was his.
A fire crackled on the hearth, warming the room with both light and heat. An oil lamp gave a soft glow on a table. And sitting in the armchair by the fire was an old man, with a neatly trimmed gray beard and a white cassock belted with a long knotted rope. The cat leaped into his lap and began to purr.
“Pull up a stool, my son. We have much to discuss. First of all, my name is Brother Thomas. I am to be your tutor for the next few years. You will also meet Brother Ass tomorrow.”
Zephaniah laughed.
“Yes, that’s his nickname, bestowed out of fondness and deep appreciation for his particular gifts. Every student here has passed through his loving hands.” Brother Thomas paused, placing his hands in front of him and closing his eyes, as if in prayer. After a few moments, he opened his eyes and smiled. “Lastly, I want to introduce you to your soon-to-be best friend. Aloysius?” Brother Thomas spoke to the room at large.
“Hello, Brother Thomas. Hello, Zephaniah.” A strange voice, like a rushing wind, swept through the room. “Do not be alarmed, young sir. I am the spirit of this room. I am invisible, so as not to alarm you too much. We shall become acquainted over the next months, and I hope that you will soon trust me.” The cat jumped down and rubbed himself against the chair.
“Aloysius will guide you through daily life. He will keep your schedule, guide you in your many tasks, and answer questions you might have. In fact, you might have a few right now. Ask him.” Brother Thomas swept his hand in introduction.
Zephaniah sat for a moment. Then he spoke slowly, “Why am I here?”
“Ah. The usual first question,” Aloysius sighed, like an autumn wind ruffling Zephaniah’s hair. “You have been called to the first stage of apprenticeship to the Medicant Order of Priests, but the people call us the poor Wizards. It takes a certain kind of person to receive this call.” Aloysius stopped with a soft sigh.
The cat came over to Zephaniah and rubbed against his legs, still purring.
Brother Thomas said, “You must have curiosity, endurance, ingenuity for living a life on the road, the capacity for both learning and the arts of self-defense, and above all, charity for the people you encounter. That is most important. From what I have heard of you, you will do well on all counts.”
He stood up, and Zephaniah did too. It seemed necessary. Brother Thomas bowed to Zephaniah. “It is late. We will save more for the morning when you are rested. You will have a chance to meet other apprentices, and Brother Ass, who will enlighten you further. Good night, Zephaniah.”
Zephaniah answered, “Good night," His head was full of many questions, but it seemed he would have to wait to get answers. How he would be able to sleep, he did not know.
Before he could do anything, a warm woolen nightshirt appeared and floated over to the bed. “Early to bed, young master.”
Zephaniah’s eyebrows rose. at the appearance of the nightshirt. Where had it come from?
“The cupboard in the corner,” Aloysius answered.
“Thanks,” said Zephaniah. He decided to ignore the fact that Aloysius knew what he was thinking. The cat, still rubbing against his legs, gave a chirp, leaped onto the bed, and curled up at the foot. Zephaniah scrambled out of his clothes and into the clean nightshirt. “By the way, does the cat have a name?”
“He does. He is called Killian..”
Zephaniah climbed into the bed. “Thank you. Good night, Aloysius. Good night, Killian,” he said.
Aloysius said not a word, but turned off the oil lamp and tamped the fire to glowing coals. Zephaniah fell asleep to the sound of a breeze blowing gently through treetops.
Chapter 3
Zephaniah woke suddenly to the clanging of bells and shouts from the hall outside his closed door. A gust of wind slapped him and said, “Get up, young sir! We have been attacked! Get dressed immediately!”
Alarmed, Zephaniah got out of bed and pulled on his clothes. There was only moonlight through the window to see by. He heard Aloysius blowing things into rucksacks and muttering like a storm brewing in the distance. Just then two figures entered through the doorway. Zephaniah crouched, then saw one was Brother Thomas, neatly clad, and the other a nearly unrecognizable Mrs. Stone, carrying a golden vessel of some sort. She was still in her night clothes, her hair hung over her shoulders in a silver braid, and her glasses were gone.
“Zephaniah,” she said in a fierce voice, “you and Brother Thomas must take this vessel into the wilderness. We have been betrayed by one of our own, and I cannot be sure who it is. This vessel must be guarded with your lives.”
Her tone softened. “Zephaniah, I trust you because you are an innocent soul, and I trust Brother Thomas to lead you out. Aloysius, can you go with them?”
“I must, Mother. I can feel the House diminishing from the flames, and I must guard our hope for the next.” The spirit sounded like a wounded bear growling.
“Shhh.” Mrs. Stone said sharply. “Silence. You must leave at once. Brother Thomas, you know what to do.” She handed him the vessel. and left as quickly as she had come.
“Follow me,” said Brother Thomas in a low voice as he moved toward the window. “Once we are outside we must keep to the shadows and make no noise. We are to join up with Brother Ass, who will have brought supplies and weapons. I hope you have some knowledge of the wildwood?”
“Yes,” whispered Zephaniah. “I have hunted these mountains ever since I could hold a bow.”
“Good. We will need those skills. Aloysius, please see us out, and watch for people who might be seeking to destroy us.”
Aloysius blew open the window with astonishing precision, and then gently shoved them up and out. The spirit tossed the bed covers into place, and then swept all other traces clean. He closed the window behind him. As far as any pursuers could tell the room had never been occupied.
They emerged into a night of shadows. The full moon hung near the western horizon, and an owl hooted in the distance, signaling the approach of dawn. Aloysius mysteriously produced two dark green traveling cloaks with hoods and they put them on. Brother Thomas seemed to disappear when he pulled up his hood. Zephaniah assumed the same was true of him. They set off, keeping to the darkest places and moving as quietly as they could. Aloysius helped by masking any noise they made with soft susurrant sounds
Before long they came to a thicket where Brother Ass stood, with three stout staffs for walking and if need be, for fighting. He carried bows and arrows over his shoulder.
Zephaniah was bemused. Brother Ass was a tall, handsome man, with short curly hair, not at all what Zephaniah had expected based on his name. He looked like he knew how to handle the things he carried. He handed Brother Thomas and Zephaniah a staff and bow each, and then pulled from his traveling cloak two swords in scabbards hung from leather belts.
“These will take some training to use. We must begin where we each are.” He shrugged. “So…We will start training when we find a place to rest for a while.” He led the way out of the thicket. Zephaniah had a feeling Brother Ass was used to commanding troops. He had some experience of that. Zephaniah had been forced to join the King’s troops when only 16. He had learned a great deal, not all of it good. He had only recently been released and had just returned home.
Zephaniah followed the small group as they moved deeper into the forest. His mind was churning. Why had he been moved to approach the door of the House? He had been there for only an evening and knew nothing about the House or the people who lived there. Why all the different colored doors? What was this Mendicant Order of Priests? Why was he called, and what did that mean? Who were Mrs. Stone and Aloysius? A caretaker and resident spirit? Why was the House alive? Who had attacked the House, and why? Finally, what was in that golden vessel Brother Thomas kept securely hidden in his tunic? And why, oh why, was he following behind like a sheep? It was all most peculiar.
Aloysius sidled up to him, if a wind can sidle, and whispered into his ear. Only Zephaniah could hear. “Don’t worry, young sir. All will be made clear in due course.”
“When will due course be?” he whispered back,
“Later today, I should think. It is most unusual to expect you to follow blindly, but it is necessary due to the exigencies of events. Be patient, and you will have your questions answered.”
Brother Thomas looked over his shoulder. In the dim light, he could not be sure, but Zephaniah thought Brother Thomas winked at him.
Here ends the beginning of a future novel (I hope). I plan to publish future chapters here in this new location.
Can’t wait to read what comes next!👏