by Tom Lloyd
‘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 to 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 warmt
h 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.
She’d been walking through the library’s corridors just as she had when Miriss surprised her with the hood of his robe down low – except in her dreams they were strangely unfamiliar and threatening. The shadows had lain thick on the ground, sometimes obscuring walls or blocking her path. She’d been forced to turn down corridors that did not exist in the real library, but were interminable in her dreams.
All the time, Gennay had sensed someone watching her, or something. She heard footsteps echo through the courtyard, but when she opened a set of shutters she saw no one there. In an empty room she had sensed a constant presence, always just behind her shoulder, out of sight but as close as her own shadow.
After a moment of recollection, Gennay was chased back inside by the cold evening air. Not so biting as the previous day, it was still too chilly outside to be there with only a shawl around her. Back inside, she saw the workmen packing up for the day, also eager to be home before the pale daylight vanished. She ignored their anxious looks as she headed up the stairs, but at the top she realised they were all facing her way. She curtly bade them a good evening and headed for her desk, the look on her face enough to see them out as soon as they’d dropped tools and found their coats.
Within a minute, Gennay was alone, sat at her desk with her head in her hands. As she stared at the page below she found the words squirming under her gaze and the throb in her head increased until she closed her eyes again.
‘Oh I’m so tired. I’m tired and stupid,’ she muttered, vainly massaging at her temple.
She sighed and stopped, tentatively opening her eyes as though afraid of what she might see. There was nothing there, just a mess on her desk and the cold empty library all around her. The one lit lamp in the room was on her desk and the rest of the hall was becoming increasingly gloomy.
As she sat there, she felt the shadows intensify and grow threatening. A sudden sense of panic blossomed in her stomach. She glanced around and saw there were no looming grey figures now, just a disquieting emptiness, but that failed to help her spirits.
‘Right, I’ll go home before the light’s gone,’ she declared with flimsy resolve. ‘I don’t want to be here after dark and clearly I’ll get nothing achieved in this frame of mind.’
She covered the fire and carried her lamp downstairs – moving with exaggerated briskness to make as much noise as possible, suddenly afraid she’d hear the rustling of pages again before she left. She collected her coat and extinguished the lamp, sparing a last glance for the twilit library. Nothing stirred.
‘Master Bewen can check the library tonight; I’ll send him back with the key.’
With that she left and locked the door behind her, hurrying across the courtyard until she was in the street and not so completely alone.
‘Dangerous streets, these,’ said a voice behind her. ‘You might want to be careful as you go.’
Gennay jumped, her hand going to her mouth to cover a scream as she whirled around. There was a man behind her, stocky with greying hair and a commoner’s clothes. She took a step back – it was hard to tell, but he looked like the man who’d been watching her in the street the previous day.
He was older than her; a few winters older than Pirn, Gennay guessed, with as many signs of a hard life etched into his face. His grey hair was not quite unkempt but, as with his clothes, some attention to it wouldn’t have gone astray.
‘W
hat is that supposed to mean?’ she asked, taking another step. He didn’t attempt to make up the ground but stood beside the wall, a mocking smile on his grubby face.
‘Well, you’re out here now. That makes it dangerous to my mind.’
‘This street’s well patrolled by the Watch. If I scream they’ll come running soon enough.’
The man just smiled in a vaguely patronising way, reminiscent of Gennay’s brother in that it made her immediately want to slap him. ‘I ain’t the one who just popped a man’s shoulder out.’
‘What? How do you know about that?’
‘I passed your gaggle of scribes, put it back in for ’im. I’ve seen it done a few times in the past, the longer you leave it the harder it is to get it back in. Good thing he’s a scrawny little bugger that boy, not much muscle to get in the way.’
‘And they told you I did it?’
‘Well, said he’d fallen badly after you startled him. Sounded odd, but I ain’t the sort o’ man to rule out the curious.’
Gennay put her hand in her pocket, just in case. ‘And what sort of man waits to address his betters in the street after performing such a service?’
‘One who wanted to talk to you anyway.’
He pushed off from the wall and took a step forward. She couldn’t see a weapon on the man, but his coat was easily long enough to hide a dagger or short-sword and there was something in the gleam of his eye that made her feel even more vulnerable than she had in the library.
‘Well, I must leave, and I suggest you don’t follow me – my father’s steward will be meeting me and he doesn’t take kindly to your type.’
‘Few men do,’ the stranger agreed with a grin, ‘but that’s life for you. I’d appreciate it if you did spare me a little time however, Mistress Thonal.’
She froze. ‘You know my name?’
‘Aye, there’s a lot of talk about this library you’re building – learning for the common man and such.’
‘You wish to be educated?’
The man chuckled at that and shook his head. ‘I’ve got my letters and a whole lot more learning besides, but I’ve given up hoping I’ll ever appear educated. No, it was the library I was interested in, was hoping I might find some information in these books of yours.’