by Lloyd, Tom
‘Now don’t you pay any regard to that, Mistress – my dreams never made much sense my whole life, and for certain they never meant a thing about where I was or what preyed on my mind. Half-gone cheese has made me see boats flap their wings and lift off the water before, and a watchman’s mind has time enough to wander far.’
Gennay smiled at the idea. ‘You’re right; too long by oneself leads to an over-active imagination. Do you read?’
Bewen’s face fell a little. ‘Never had much call to learn, Mistress, was born to a deckhand and a seamstress.’
‘Then you shall have to join our first class,’ she declared, shaking her head as Bewen opened his mouth to object. ‘No, it will be good for both the teachers and you, quite aside from the fact that it would be a terrible waste to spend night after night in this place and not read any of the works we’re collecting.’
Seeing her mind was set, Bewen bobbed his head again and smiled uneasily, retreating out of the library as fast as he could and back to his home in the south of the city.
‘Are you sure about that, Mistress Gennay?’ Pirn asked with careful politeness as he watched Bewen cross the courtyard. ‘He’s a shade too old for learning, I reckon.’
‘Nonsense, no one is too old, and as much as anything he’ll be a good challenge for the teachers we’re employing. He can be my spy in the lessons too,’ she added brightly.
Pirn was careful not to let any expression cross his face. ‘I’m sure he’ll be delighted to help.’
‘Good.’ She prodded him on the arm. ‘Now get yourself back to the house, I’m sure father’s got two dozen things you need to see to.’
She ushered him out and shut the door firmly behind Pirn before heading up to her desk on the mezzanine, pulling open the two largest pair of shutters on her way.
‘There we are, a bit of light,’ she announced to the empty library, glad her father had agreed to replace the glass in the tall, shutterless windows that provided the bulk of the hall’s light. ‘Now, let’s see about reviving that fire before Sarras gets here.’
As night fell, the library again emptied with alacrity, the last of their half-dozen newly hired scribes hurrying out the door with an almost apologetic look on his face. As Gennay watched him shuffle gingerly across the snow-covered courtyard a slight movement caught her eye.
It had been too brief in the gloom to be sure of, but for a moment Gennay thought someone had poked their head around the open gate at the far end of the courtyard. The scribe himself made no sign of seeing anything as he neared the gate, head low against the light falling snow. When she looked again, the darkness there seemed empty so she sighed at her own foolishness.
‘Mistress Gennay?’ asked Sarras from behind her. ‘Is everything okay?’
She turned and looked at the tall man’s anxious face that was punctuated by his curiously straight eyebrows. ‘Of course, I thought I saw something but it was just . . . well, it was nothing, just a trick of the light.’
Relief flooded his face as Sarras nodded. ‘Very good, should we perhaps look through the letters of application before I leave?’
Gennay agreed and shut the main door before leading him back up to her desk. The sound of their footsteps on the stairs sounded oddly loud now they were alone and Gennay felt a slight unease creep into her heart as they started leafing through the applications from townsfolk.
There were several hundred already, for children of all ages. It had already been decided that half would come from the families of merchants and traders – people who could pay for the tuition and contribute to the library’s income, so the other half could be chosen from families without the money.
Gennay’s most difficult task had been to devise a test for the illiterate children brought to their door by parents equally lacking in learning. She agreed with her father that educating the most intelligent of Narkang’s poor would improve the fortunes of the city, but Gennay had found picking the lucky ones a difficult and heartbreaking exercise.
‘What was that?’ Gennay asked suddenly, looking up from her desk.
‘What, Mistress?’
‘That sound, didn’t you hear it?’
Sarras smiled nervously. ‘I heard nothing, only the fire.’ He pointed behind him where the fire was crackling merrily still.
‘No, not that,’ Gennay said with a shake of the head. She looked out over the balustrade, down at the hall below. There was no one there, the main door shut as she’d left it. ‘I thought I heard a scratching sound.’
‘Rats, Mistress? It’s so cold outside, they’ll be seeking out the warmth.’
Gennay frowned at him and he wilted under the look. ‘I don’t think . . . ah, you’re right, I’ve just been spending too long in this draughty old place.’
She reached for the next piece of paper. ‘Oh, I don’t remember this one at all – Barra Entashai, son of a cook and a dockworker.’
‘Master Koyn met that one, I believe,’ Sarras said. ‘A cocksure street-brat he said.’
Gennay nodded, reading the short summary written by the ageing man who’d been her tutor for several years. ‘Master Koyn said the same about my brother,’ she said with a smile. ‘It might be a sign of intellect.’
‘He’s older than the rest.’
‘Not by too much. He passed the test easily, as you’d expect of one older – maybe we should see him again and ask something a little more difficult of him.’
Sarras inclined his head in acquiescence, but before they could move on to the next Gennay slapped her palm down on the desk.
‘There! That scratching sound, did you hear it?’
He shook his head but Gennay ignored him and rose, leaning on the stone balustrade as she looked down at the hall below. ‘I heard something, I’m certain – and it wasn’t a rat, it was a more regular sound.’
‘I heard nothing, Mistress,’ Sarras said, bewildered. ‘Perhaps you are tired and we should stop for the day.’
She turned to face him, poised to speak, but then closed her mouth again and thought better of whatever was on her mind. ‘Perhaps you’re right, I’ve kept you here too long. Get home to your supper.’
Not waiting for a response, she ushered him towards the door, suddenly irritated by his meek manner. Sarras went without an argument, casting one curious look around him when he reached the bottom of the stairs, but not lingering. They completed their rounds of the library in record time, Gennay marching through the dark rooms of each wing with a brusqueness that seemed to cow Sarras further.
As soon as they had finished, he was scuttling for his cloak, head bowed like a contrite novice. He had barely got it around his body before he was fumbling for the door and his words of goodnight came out as a frightened whisper, but before she could do anything to apologise he had set off across the courtyard, heading for home.
Gennay watched him go, then gave a start as she saw a flicker of movement in the dark shadows of the gate, as though someone had just stepped away.
‘Sarras,’ she called hurriedly. He stopped like a dog yanked back by its leash. ‘Did you see a movement there?’ she said loudly. ‘Through the gate?’
He glanced behind him, then shook his head. ‘No Mistress, did you see someone?’
‘I . . . I thought I saw someone step away. Have a care when you leave, just in case.’
Sarras nodded and took a tentative step towards the gate. He was not a brave man, but large enough that most cutpurses would think twice about approaching him on a street patrolled by the City Watch. Walking cautiously, he peered forward before he reached the gate, but saw nothing. When he hopped a few paces through into the street beyond, he whirled around, arms up to ward off a club, but nothing came and he lowered them again, abashed.
‘There’s no one out here,’ he called almost apologetically.
Gennay nodded in relief and waved goodbye. ‘Then I apologise, it’s just my imagination. Thank you, Sarras, have a good night.’
He returned the gesture and made t
o turn away from the gate before catching sight of something further down the street. Attracting her attention again, Sarras pointed at something in the distance.
‘I see Masters Pirn and Bewen coming to collect you,’ he called.
‘Thank you!’ she replied, reaching for her coat as Sarras waved goodnight and disappeared around the corner.
Gennay shut the door again and slipped her coat on before heading back up to her desk to order her papers before her escort arrived. Pirn was a busy man and she didn’t want him to be waiting around while she got ready. While tying the papers up she stopped abruptly and cocked her head to listen. The library was quiet again, silent enough that she could hear two pairs of footsteps in the courtyard.
‘Daft girl,’ she muttered, covering the fire again. Then she heard it, a distant whispery sound from somewhere down below. Gennay ran to the balustrade and leaned out, but the hall was empty.
‘I’m sure I heard that,’ she declared with more certainty than she felt.
She checked her desk. The piles weren’t quite as neat as they could be but it was good enough so she raced down the stairs, determined to look at the reading room below before Pirn reached the door. Once there, however, her boldness faltered and Gennay found herself staring at the closed door for a moment.
‘No, I’ll not start being timid now,’ she declared and yanked the door open.
Inside, there was nothing but shadows and a handful of books. In the gloom within she could see they had been left carelessly spread over the table; one of the scribes must have been looking for something and not bothered to tidy after himself. Gennay walked in and picked up the books, stacking them into two neat piles just as a crisp knock rang out from the door behind her.
‘Coming,’ she called over her shoulder.
Gennay left the room and started toward the door when a tiny breath of wind seemed to carry across her back. She gasped and whirled around, heart hammering, but there was nothing there. Her hand went to her pocket and closed around the knife handle, but the library was again still and silent. The reading room was dark, only the lines of furniture and books really visible within. It had a small window at the back that led on to an inaccessible light-well, but that was solidly barred.
‘A draught can still creep past,’ she muttered, watching the room suspiciously.
After a while of staring, she felt her eyes begin to water with the effort. As they did, the twilight seemed to shift and move slightly, reaching towards her. Gennay gave a small gasp and took a few steps back, but then she blinked and the gloom in the small room returned to normal.
‘Mistress Gennay?’ called Pirn from behind the door.
‘Coming,’ she replied, suddenly desperate to be away. She fumbled a moment with the key, one eye on the room behind her but nothing seemed to move there now. Gennay wrenched the door open and stormed out, almost barging Master Bewen out of the way in the process.
‘Mistress? What’s happened?’
‘Nothing.’ Gennay gave the room one last, cautious look, then shook her head and handed over the ring of keys. ‘No, just my imagination again, I’m afraid. Master Bewen, the keys are yours – no cheese for your supper, I hope?’
The night watchman smiled and shook his straggly white hair. ‘No, Mistress, a nice warm pie tonight.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ she said brightly. ‘Come on Pirn, it’s cold out here!’
‘Aye, Mistress,’ the retainer said with a suspicious look. ‘Good night Master Bewen.’
Gennay marched across the frosty courtyard as quickly as the ice and snow would permit. At the gate she glanced back to where Bewen stood watching them. He saw her looking and ducked his head, closing the door with a thump.
‘All still fine, Mistress?’ Pirn asked as he moved ahead of her, through the gate.
She followed him and looked at the near-empty street suspiciously. Off to the right she saw a figure at the far end, half in the shadow of a doorway and conspicuously still.
‘Who’s that?’ she mused.
Pirn took a step forward and squinted, but she realised his eyes wouldn’t be good enough to make much out in the dark.
‘I don’t know. Should I fetch a watchman?’
‘Because he’s standing out in the cold? They might want a little more reason than that. Foolishness is not a crime, despite my brother’s opinion on the subject.’
Gennay squinted at the figure, trying to make anything out. She could tell from the clothes and stance that it was a man, perhaps broader than average with a tradesman’s coat and hair that was either fair or greying. While this was a better part of the city, the man’s clothing wasn’t so out of place, but he did appear to be staring directly at them which was unusual.
‘Doubt he’s a thief,’ Pirn said eventually. ‘They’ll not hang around so long once noticed.’
Gennay nodded and on cue the man turned and disappeared around the house he’d been standing by. ‘Well, he’s gone now.’ She pulled her hood low over her face and brushed a flake of snow from its brim. ‘Time we did so too.’
‘Aye, Mistress, but keep an eye out for him again, mind.’
She nodded and stamped her feet, feeling the cold more deeply than ever. ‘I will, now move yourself, that mention of a pie has made me hungry!’
Arms wrapped around her body, Gennay hurried down the dim corridor of the guildsmen offices towards the warmer main hall. It was dark and cold here, and near-silent with only three men working in one small office. They had a fire lit there, but the scribes jealously guarded its warmth and resented every second the door was open.
Here in the corridor it was as cold as the street outside, Gennay guessed; bare stone was ever cold and the ceiling high enough to draw all warmth away. Her head felt heavy and fogged, as though she’d been at her father’s brandy, but she knew it was just a combination of the cold and sleeplessness.
From nowhere a grey shape appeared beside her. Gennay yelped and reeled away, crashing into a door on the other side of the corridor and falling through it as it yielded to her weight. The faceless spectre hissed and raised its billowing grey arms towards her, lurching forward as Gennay scrabbled on the floor of the empty room.
She screamed and kicked wildly, trying to flee but her boots found no purchase on the musty rush-strewn floor. At last her heel caught something and she pushed with all her strength, slamming the door on the creature as she drove herself back and half-upright.
The phantom shrieked and Gennay screamed again, fighting her way to her feet. She heard running footsteps in the corridor, but couldn’t bring herself to move anywhere but back until her shoulders were against the barred shutters of the office window. There she stood, trembling in the darkness, until the door opened again. Her hand was on her knife-handle by the time she recognised who it was; Sarras, the chief scribe. He peered fearfully around the door, not seeing Gennay for a moment but when he did the man gasped and opened the door fully.
‘Mistress Gennay? Are you hurt?’ Sarras asked as he advanced towards her, but Gennay didn’t hear him as she saw a grey figure on the ground behind the man.
Her mouth fell open as the figure moved. It wasn’t a ghost at all but a young man, one of the scribes in her employ.
‘Oh Gods,’ Gennay gasped as Miriss sat up, one hand holding his shoulder. ‘It was just Miriss.’
‘What happened?’ Sarras gave Miriss a puzzled look, clearly unsure who was the injured party.
‘He startled me; I just saw a grey shape appear, thought . . .’
Sarras reached out a tentative hand for Gennay to take and she did so gladly. ‘He tried to grab you?’
‘No, just appeared suddenly in his robe.’ She gave a nervous laugh. ‘It’s a novice robe from the Temple of Death, isn’t it? Fate’s eyes, I hadn’t realised he’d even taken a novice vow.’
‘Yes, all orphans they take in become novices,’ Sarras said, still too confused to join her laughter. ‘He was wearing it against the cold.’
; ‘I didn’t, I didn’t know . . . Is he okay? Miriss, I’m sorry, you startled me.’
The scribe was only a winter or two younger than Gennay, but smaller than she and thin too. The door slamming onto his shoulder had knocked him flying and she could see from his face he was still too dazed to hear her.
As her heart calmed and her wits returned fully, Gennay realised his face was contorted by pain. One of the other scribes touched his right arm and the young man gasped and recoiled. The shoulder itself looked strange and lumped.
‘Oh no, it looks dislocated.’ She advanced a step and the supine scribe’s eyes widened with fear.
‘Sarras, quickly – take him to the bonesetter near the old baths, tell them to send the bill to my father.’
The scribe nodded and helped Miriss to his feet while Gennay watched anxiously from a distance. It took both Sarras and the other scribe to help Miriss to the door and down the stairs to the main entrance. She followed them, cursing herself under her breath and ignoring the curious faces from the team of carpenters at work in the main hall. Sarras wasted no time in getting Miriss out the door and across the treacherous courtyard, the three men walking together like some fantastical beast.
Gennay followed them out and stood in the courtyard, realising her hands were still trembling. The shock had only intensified the ache behind her eyes and for a moment her eyes blurred until she screwed them up tightly and leaned back against the library’s stone wall.
‘I’m losing my mind,’ she muttered, her moment of nervous laughter gone entirely.
The previous night she’d managed only an hour’s sleep at most and when she’d arrived at the library it looked as though Master Bewen had done worse than she. When she’d questioned him about it, the night watchman had been evasive and uncomfortable – clearly keen to get away from the building despite his protests that the night had been entirely uneventful.
The sun was going down now. She could see the sky darkening and had found herself over the course of the day dreading nightfall. What little sleep she’d managed last night had been a collection of jumbled, disjointed dreams, ones that had reminded her of Bewen’s own.