by S J Howland
‘Interested in our large friends over there?’ he asked genially. ‘I see that everyone else is keeping a careful distance from them, as always. I doubt whether most of the people here have ever exchanged a single word with a giant.’
‘So why are they invited then, if no-one talks to them?’ asked Xander, confused.
‘The Families like to be seen as socially inclusive,’ replied Reeve. ‘Pressure is put on various representatives of the old races to be trotted out at high-profile events, to ‘send the right message’. Doesn’t mean that anyone would be seen dead actually socialising with them.’
Xander frowned. ‘That seems a bit –’
He paused to search for the proper word.
‘Offensive? Dishonest?’ suggested Reeve helpfully.
‘Pointless,’ Xander finished. ‘I mean, if everyone knows the truth.’
Reeve chuckled. ‘Well, now you have a thorough grasp of the politics, would you like to come and meet them?’
‘You know them?’ asked Xander, although he realised that actually he wasn’t surprised. Reeve might give the impression of being oblivious to social conventions, but it was clear that, in reality, he simply chose to ignore them.
‘I do,’ he confirmed. ‘Quite well, actually. Come on.’
Reeve led the way across the crowded space towards the corner where the giants loomed awkwardly, speaking amongst themselves. As he drew nearer, Xander realised that there was a wide circle of empty space separating the giants from the rest of the circulating crowd. Just as they were about to step out into that space, Reeve suddenly put a hand on Xander’s arm and drew him back.
‘Hang on a minute,’ he said, sounding slightly choked. ‘This should be good.’
Looking around to see what had drawn Reeve’s attention, Xander spotted the gaunt figure of Primilla Pennicott, walking primly towards the small group of giants while firmly shooing one of the floating trays in front of her. She wore the determinedly bright expression some people adopt when addressing very small children.
‘There you are,’ she said in a treacly tone, although Xander noticed that she avoided looking directly at any of the giants. ‘I do hope you’re enjoying yourselves.’
There was a slight pause, and then one of the giants cleared his throat with a sound like granite being crushed. ‘Thank you, yes,’ he replied politely in his gravelly voice. He had a strange accent, seeming to swallow some of the sounds in the back of his throat.
The other giants nodded, their eyes all fixed on the contents of a large bowl sitting on the glass tray. It seemed to be filled with odd, globular things which Xander did not recognise, and he stood up on tiptoes to see better; a moment later he wished fervently that he had not. Piled high and quivering slightly as the tray revolved in the air, was a mass of pale, blood-shot eyeballs.
Primilla gestured to her tray, with a self-satisfied expression.
‘Such an oversight that these weren’t served with the norm-, I mean with the other food. I thought I really should bring them over to you myself,’ she said in the same sickly, patronising voice. ‘The Committee does pride itself on trying to make our special guests feel quite welcome among us, and we were delighted to prepare your cultural delicacy. Do tuck in.’
Reeve let out a muffled squeak and Xander realised that he was actually shaking with laughter, his hand crammed against his mouth to stifle the sound. Xander himself could barely look away from the uncomfortable scene unfolding before him. Primilla, clearly mistaking the giants’ stunned disbelief for delighted astonishment, propelled her tray with its macabre offering directly in front of the giants, where it revolved slowly, the eyeballs glowing in the tray’s soft illumination.
There was an awkward pause, and then the giant who had spoken earlier reluctantly reached out his shovel-sized hand towards the bowl of glistening eyeballs. Xander, who unlike Primilla was looking at the giant’s face, clearly saw the moment when his expression lightened. Instead of reaching into the bowl, he picked it up and thrust it out to Primilla.
‘Please, have one,’ he rumbled.
Primilla looked like she might faint. ‘Oh, really … I couldn’t … they’re for you,’ she stuttered. Her voice was more shrill than treacly now.
The giant jiggled the bowl, making the pile of eyeballs wobble and roll around.
‘Is traditional,’ he stated firmly. ‘Always must share with host first.’ He stared at her expectantly.
Primilla reached out a shaking hand and gingerly picked up the top-most eyeball in the very tips of her fingers. With a final, appalled look, she put it in her mouth and slowly bit down.
‘Mmm,’ she said with a feigned smile of appreciation, her cheek bulging, and then abruptly spun around and tottered away, covering her mouth with her hand as soon as she was out of sight of the giants. Reeve was doubled over by this point, almost choking with the effort of holding in his laughter. He looked up at Xander, his eyes watering.
‘And the woman actually works in a library,’ he sputtered. ‘Where does she get this stuff from?’ Finally, he drew in a deep, shaking breath and pulled himself together. ‘Come on, let’s go over before she comes back with any more cultural insights.’
Xander followed behind Reeve as he walked across the empty space and looked up at the group of giants.
‘I’m sorry, guys,’ he said, in a deadpan voice. ‘I’m afraid that I didn’t bring any body parts to share with you today, but I’ll definitely rectify that oversight next time.’
One giant let out a harsh sounding chuckle, his rough features crinkling into a smile.
‘Cal, old friend. Do not joke too loudly or else they may bring us more eyeballs than we can eat.’ He rolled his eyes at the bowl with its grisly contents and shook his head, looking perplexed. ‘I do not understand why anyone would think we would wish for such things.’
Reeve just snorted and then gestured to Xander. ‘I have someone who would like to meet you,’ he said. ‘This is Xander King. Xander, meet Tyr, Alf, Jak, Orvar and Njord.’
Xander stared up at the group of huge figures.
‘Hello,’ he said.
The giant Reeve had introduced as Jak beamed at him, the rough skin creasing on his brow ridge.
‘How do you do, Xander King? Is this your first visit to the Pavilions?’ he asked, in his harsh voice.
Xander nodded and then swallowed. ‘It’s very beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it before.’
The giants all beamed down at him as if he had said something particularly pleasing. ‘Did you know that giants helped to build it?’ asked Njord ponderously. ‘The Wall of Constellations here is one of our finest works. Beautiful indeed, I think.’
‘Why don’t you show him?’ put in Reeve, with a quick encouraging smile at Xander. ‘It’s pretty spectacular, and I’m sure he’d love to see it.’
‘That would be great,’ said Xander politely, and the giants looked delighted again.
They led the way between the pillars and out into a dimly lit passageway. At the far end, Xander saw that there were a couple of staircases leading down to the lake shore below. The giants turned to walk in the opposite direction, where the passageway turned to the left and then paused, gesturing to Reeve and Xander to go first. Not knowing what to expect, Xander turned the corner and gasped in amazement as he saw a massive stone wall twinkling with thousands of lights, as if it were a window into deep space. He took a few steps closer to examine it more closely and noticed a few constellations he recognised, like Orion and the soft lights of the Pleiades.
‘Amazing, isn’t it?’ said Reeve quietly from behind him.
‘It’s incredible,’ agreed Xander. He wondered why such a beautiful display was hidden away here, where so few people would see it, but was rather wary of asking any more questions which might draw attention to the fact he was an outlander. ‘It’s like being in the night sky.’
‘The Constellation Wall is ancient,’ ground out one of the giants behind Xander. ‘We cannot make
such things now but still, it speaks to us of what we once were.’
There was a rumble of agreement from the other giants, and then Reeve drew Xander back with him into the passageway. ‘Thank you for sharing this with us, my friends,’ he said warmly. ‘We’ve both appreciated seeing such artistry.’
‘Definitely,’ said Xander. ‘Thank you.’
‘It was our pleasure,’ said Jak. ‘It has been good to meet you, Xander King and to see our friend Cal, but I think we have done our duty now and will leave before we are presented with any other unexpected offerings.’
Reeve eyed him thoughtfully. ‘Actually, I may join you, while I’m still ahead in avoiding unpleasant Family members and their hangers-on.’ With a wry grin at Xander, he and the giants led the way back into the Upper Tier and disappeared towards the staircase.
Xander had just decided to go and look for the other two when Ollie himself appeared at his side, a worried frown on his face. ‘There you are,’ he said, sounding relieved. ‘Where’ve you been? Is Len with you?’
Xander shook his head. ‘No, I haven’t seen her for ages. Have you looked downstairs?’
Ollie sighed. ‘I did, but let’s check again. I know that she doesn’t really enjoy social events, but it’s not like her to completely disappear.’
They both turned towards the staircase and almost bumped into a man who was staggering, clearly rather the worse for wear. He grabbed at Ollie, his breathing laboured, and peered into his face.
‘S’traordinary thing,’ he said solemnly. ‘Never saw a girl do that with water before. Strange girl though,’ he added, his eyes crossing as Ollie twisted away.
‘Some people just don’t know when they’ve had enough,’ Ollie muttered irritably, as they continued down the stairs. When they had combed all three levels and drawn a blank, Xander looked at Ollie and saw the same concern reflected in his frown. ‘You don’t think she’s gone home, do you?’ he asked.
‘No way,’ said Ollie positively. ‘Gran would be furious and even Len knows that it’s not worth the row.’
Looking about for inspiration, Xander caught sight of the lake between the stone pillars, glimmering serenely in the moonlight. A vivid recollection of the words of the staggering man from by the stairs hit him. ‘Could she have gone down there?’ Xander pointed over towards the water. Ollie followed his gaze and his worried face brightened.
‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Let’s go look.’
Xander and Ollie headed for the steep staircase that led down to the lake shore, hurriedly descending the worn stone steps to the wide terrace at the bottom. To their right, twinkling lights illuminated the shore, which was full of people. Couples strolled along by the water’s edge, and there were several groups sitting in the soft sand, their laughter and loud conversations travelling in the still night air.
‘She won’t be over there,’ Xander said with certainty. He turned away from the lights and noticed a narrow stair on their left, leading down to the other part of the lake shore, lit only by moonlight. ‘Let’s try this side.’
He and Ollie had only descended a few steps when their suspicions were proven correct. Len herself appeared out of the darkness and the two boys stopped dead, gaping at her. She was dripping wet from head to foot, her elegant dress clinging to her legs as she stomped up the stairs. Obviously whatever she had used to colour her hair did not simply wash out because it now resembled a mass of multi-coloured rats’ tails. She looked thoroughly irritated.
‘What happened to you?’ asked Ollie, quite clearly torn between concern and amusement.
Len marched past him, her nose in the air.
‘I don’t want to discuss it,’ she snapped.
Xander and Ollie exchanged glances and then turned to follow her up the steps.
‘You realise that Gran probably will want to discuss it,’ Ollie suggested diplomatically.
Len just sniffed, although Xander wasn’t entirely sure whether it was in response to Ollie’s remark or to the water still streaming down her face. As they reached the top, their way was blocked by a number of older boys, standing in a cluster on the steps; Xander recognised several of them from Larissa Larcius-Thorne’s group earlier. Among the boys was the tall figure of Roran Thorne, leaning back against a pillar with his hands in his pockets, faintly illuminated by the glowstones above. He was eying Len with his head tilted arrogantly and an amused smile quirking his lips.
‘Drowned rat,’ he drawled. ‘Yet another unusual look.’
The surrounding boys broke out in loud sniggers but Len completely disregarded them, sweeping past with a poise unmarred by the steady flow of water from her dress or the faint squelching noise from her boots. Xander was strongly reminded of her grandmother in that moment.
Thorne just laughed. ‘You’ve got weeds in your hair,’ he called mockingly after her, to another burst of laughter from his friends. He met Xander’s gaze and immediately looked away with no sign of recognition, but Xander was more sure than ever that Thorne was the boy who had met him that first day. He scowled and pushed his way through the group of boys, who made no effort to move out of his way; Ollie shoved through beside him, muttering ‘prats’. Finally, they made it past and hurried forward to catch up with Len. Ollie caught at her arm when they reached her.
‘Look, why don’t you just go down to the front and wait. We’ll find Gran,’ he suggested reasonably. ‘You really don’t want to walk around like that.’
Len paused to consider, and then nodded when she noticed the murmurs from people who had already spotted her. ‘Okay, but don’t be too long,’ she said with a shiver. ‘It’s freezing in this thing.’ She tugged distastefully at her dress, which hung forlornly, dripping onto the stone floor.
‘I’ll come with you,’ offered Xander. He felt suddenly exhausted and reluctant to push his way through the still ample crowds of people.
‘Thanks,’ replied Len, whose teeth had begun to chatter.
Ollie disappeared into the crowd to find his grandmother, while Xander unbuttoned his jacket, shrugged it off and silently offered it to Len. She smiled gratefully at him and pulled it on, wrapping her arms about herself for warmth as they both began the descent to the lower level.
When Mrs Stanton arrived to meet them it was clear that Ollie had already briefed her on what to expect because she merely raised an eyebrow as she took in Len’s tangled wet hair and the pitiful sogginess of her dress under Xander’s jacket.
‘I suppose I should have expected something like this,’ she said in resignation, leading the way back down the lantern-lit stone steps. Xander turned at the top, for one last glimpse of the Pavilions glimmering against the starry sky, before hurrying after Mrs Stanton to the gate and home.
Chapter Eight
They were all up late the next morning, and breakfast turned into brunch. On hearing about Len’s late-night dunking in the lake, James laid a hand on her forehead, even as she continued to pile honey onto a piece of toast.
‘You feel cool enough,’ he said, frowning. ‘But it can’t be good for you, getting soaked in the middle of the night and then standing around in a sopping wet dress. I’m amazed you haven’t caught your death of cold.’
Mrs Stanton snorted.
‘Not she,’ she said. ‘Your niece may be an absolute menace but apparently she’s a very healthy one.’
Len beamed at her, tipping her piece of toast in a silent salute, and her grandmother rolled her eyes.
When they had cleared the table, the three of them headed out for the sun-warmed grass under the trees in the orchard to discuss their next steps. After going around in circles for several minutes, Len sat back decisively.
‘There’s only one place where you’ll find the answers, Xander,’ she told him. ‘Like you said, you’re talking about history and that’s all kept in the Halls of Records. If we want to find out about ancient blood and enemies,’ she ticked them off on her fingers, ‘that’s the place to go.’
Xander nodded slowly. It se
emed obvious now that Len had pointed it out. However, there was still one problem and Ollie promptly articulated it.
‘That means trying to get past Primilla Pennicott in her den, which is never a good thing.’
‘Len’s right, though,’ said Xander.
‘Of course I am,’ replied Len airily.
Ollie shook his head. ‘Why do I feel like this isn’t going to end well?’ he asked no one in particular and then got to his feet with a sigh. ‘Well, we might as well get started. The quicker we get there, the quicker we’ll get thrown out.’
Twenty minutes later, they were walking through the imposing doors of the Halls of Records and Xander felt a sense of excitement bubble up inside him. Finally, they might be close to getting some answers to the questions that had been dogging him since his life had changed irrevocably in the British Museum, as the impossible had unfolded before him. Len nudged him and gestured off to the right.
‘The research terminals are over here,’ she whispered. ‘We can’t search blind – there are literally millions of records here.’
Xander nodded and followed her. Ollie remained a few paces behind them, glancing up at the big desk on the dais which, ominously, was empty.
‘She’s loose in here somewhere,’ he muttered under his breath, looking around him with a hunted air.
‘Less chat, more hurrying then,’ replied Len. She led them towards a terminal, tucked away between stacks of shelves, and then sat down and swiftly brought up a series of menus. ‘What shall we search for first?’ she asked, her fingers hovering over the keypad.
Xander thought for a moment. ‘Try ‘ancient blood’,’ he said.
With a few keystrokes, Len brought up list after list on the terminal screen. She muttered under her breath as she scrolled through them so fast that Xander could only catch a few words. ‘Lots about healing, livestock breeding lines, some fairly disturbing accident reports,’ her voice trailed off as the lists kept coming. ‘Uh, this may take longer than we thought.’
‘Try ‘ancient blood’ and ‘enemy’ together,’ suggested Ollie, leaning over her shoulder. Len poked him irritably.