Peacekeeper's Plan

by Wayne Meyers

  “Never mind all that,” Babette cut in. “Just get me down there, okay? Please?”

  Marcos’ face turned serious. “Why? It’s really boring and smelly.”

  “Like dirt,” Brentor repeated.

  Babette explained her predicament.

  Marcos bowed gallantly. “A damsel in distress, Brent. And a friend of Hofen’s. It’s time we spring into action. Right?”

  “Quite right.” Brentor glanced around. “A friend of Hofen’s is a friend of ours. Meet us by the north staircase in five minutes.”

  “Can’t we eat first?” Spaldeer pleaded.

  Babette shook her head firmly. “The seamstress could be here at any moment for all we know. Once they get the clothing out of the guild, it’s likely I’ll never see my grandmother’s bracelet again.”

  “They might return it,” I said hopefully.

  Babette gave me a look. “And if they don’t, then what? All they have to say is no bracelet was found. It’s valuable.”

  Marcos poked Spaldeer in the chest. “Damsels first. Dining after.”

  Spaldeer deflated and lowered his head. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with as expeditiously as possible.”

  “And fast, too,” Marcos added.

  “Shouldn’t take long,” I said.

  Why did I always have to be wrong?

  Chapter Five—In the Basement

  Brentor wasn’t lying. The basement reeked of dirt, mildew, and age.

  We had met Marcos and Brentor at the staircase on the first-floor landing, pretending to chat as though we’d accidentally run into each other. Once the stream of apprentices returning to their rooms from dinner had filtered by, Marcos slipped downstairs. We heard a metallic click, squeaky hinges opening, and his loud whispered, “Hurry!” A rush of foul air surged up the landing as we rushed down the dimly lit steps to the basement landing and slipped through the half-open door.

  Marcos closed the door behind us with cautious haste, then turned something on the brass doorknob. He stepped back. “Good as gold.”

  Brentor sniffed the air, looking like he had bit into a lemon. “I hate coming down here.”

  The air wasn’t as bad as he made it out to be, but it did overwhelm my nostrils at first. Musty, thick, and slightly metallic, I wanted to sneeze.

  We glanced around in the semi-darkness, standing in a large open area that led into a long hallway. Light filtered down through narrow, barred windows close to the ceiling, casting shadows that did more to obscure our view than clarify. We stood still for a few minutes simply listening for sounds of discovery or company, but nothing reached our ears except muffled noises from the first floor above, and perhaps some yelling outside. There was a dull, deep, thunking noise far off from where we stood, alarming at first, then fading away into familiarity as we decided it had no human cause.

  “What a strange place,” Babette said.

  By now our eyes had adjusted to the dimness so I could see her pretty face well enough. Excitement replaced the look of despair that had moved me earlier, and she darted into the hallway to peek into open doorways. Dim light spilled out from these, but the hall darkened where the doors were shut, leaving the path forward patchy and half-lit, casting long shadows that splashed across the walls like ink. I could not see where the hallway ended.

  “How exactly did you get a key?” Spaldeer asked Marcos.

  “Key?” Marcos looked incredulous and glanced over to Brentor, who shrugged in exaggerated bafflement. “Why would you think I have some…key?”

  Spaldeer’s eyebrows lifted. “Because you just unlocked the door.”

  Brentor clapped Marcos on the back. “He’s a master lockpicker, he is. Doesn’t like anyone watching him work.”

  Babette snorted from several doorways down. “Oh, please. You had to go back to your room for it.”

  “No, I needed my picks. That’s why I went to my room.”

  “Master lockpicker,” Brentor said again.

  “Shouldn’t we start looking for the laundry room? The bathroom would be down this hallway a bit.” I was afraid of what might happen to us should the masters discover our intrusion.

  “Yes,” Babette agreed.

  Brentor held up an old, rusty chain. “Look at this. Perhaps it was once used to keep bad apprentices locked up.”

  Marcos chuckled. “They should put Artelus down here, then.”

  “There’s a rat skeleton,” I said, pointing at the gleaming white bones near our feet.

  Spaldeer looked nervously down. “Oh, joy.”

  Curious despite myself, I looked through a few of the doorways but found nothing of interest. Some open boxes of cleaning supplies, toilet paper and soap, a few spare mops and brooms, and an old, wooden ladder resting against one stone wall. “We should keep looking for the laundry.”

  “I concur,” Spaldeer said. “My stomach is starting to cramp.”

  “The chicken was quite good,” Marcos said. “Such a shame they will not permit seconds.”

  Brentor grunted his agreement.

  Spaldeer groaned.

  Babette took the lead, and I followed close behind her. “Finally. My bathroom is close to the other end of the building.”

  “We know,” Spaldeer said. “All the boys on my floor have to use my bathroom, so you have yours to yourself.”

  Babette shrugged. “Boys pee faster than girls, anyway.”

  “Girls take too many showers,” I said.

  “One can never be too clean.” Babette tossed her damp hair, almost slapping me in the face like the head of a mop.

  “Regardless,” Spaldeer said. “We will pass beneath the boys’ bathroom first, which should help us understand where the dirty clothing goes. Then, we’ll know what to look for once we reach your bathroom.”

  A faint humming sound grew louder as we walked further down the corridor. There came a long stretch of completely dark hallway, as there were no open doorways to emit light. I managed to make out the faint outline of closed doors along the way, but their handles did not move when I tried to open them.

  These doors felt heavier than the ones to our dorm rooms, perhaps made out of metal instead of wood. When I placed my hands against them, I could feel a strong vibration. “I wonder what’s behind them.”

  “Probably whatever is responsible for our cool air and hot water,” Spaldeer replied, passing me.

  “Oh?” I had not thought about those things before. They simply happened, just like the lights.

  Marcos sighed and walked over to the nearest door. “Fine, just a peek.”

  Brentor stood behind him to hide what he was doing though we all heard a key turning a heavy lock, and the door swung inward, spilling bright light into the hallway that made me squint.

  I’m not sure what I expected to see, but this was disappointing. Vibrating and humming, a huge, black, box-shaped structure took up almost the entire room. Every so often it thumped. Several rectangular extensions emerged from near its top that connected into the walls and ceiling.

  “That is unsettling,” Babette finally said. She stepped away from the doorway and continued walking down the hallway.

  Marcos nudged us away so he could close the door, the lock clicking loudly into place as darkness returned. “I don’t like opening these doors. They all look the same as that.”

  “Once was enough,” Brentor agreed.

  Spaldeer placed his hand against the door, looking frustrated. “It does things we don’t understand.”

  “So?” I shrugged, wanting to continue with finding the bracelet so we could all get out of here.

  He smiled at me with a look I saw in the bathroom mirror when I was watching myself practice a new technique. “I want to understand.”

  “Here.” Babette had stopped at the next open doorway, where the early evening light trickled through.

  We crowded into the small room, which contained a large, wheeled cart, half-full of discarded pants, shirts, and robes. As we watched, a flexible metal f
lap at the top of the wall above it sprang open, and a muddy robe dropped onto the top of the heap.

  Spaldeer’s eyes narrowed. “Odd.”

  “What’s odd?” I asked.

  “How do they get the cart up the stairs?”

  We had no answer, so had to leave it as a mystery.

  “Well, should be easy to find your bracelet,” Brentor said. “Only your clothes will be in the container at the bottom of the chute beneath your bathroom.”

  Spaldeer shook his head. “And the clothes from the bathrooms on the other two floors above it. Those are still being used by everyone.”

  We continued past more sealed doors with strange rattling sounds behind them, including the thumping we had heard earlier.

  “Where did you get the key from?” Babette asked. “Oh, stop pretending. You know we won’t tell anyone about it. We’re all friends now, and friends do not tattle on one another.”

  “They don’t?” Marcos glared at Brentor. “I knew it!”

  Brentor looked down at his feet. “But it wasn’t my fault. Why should I get in trouble?”

  “Stop playing,” Babette said.

  Marcos held the object in question up to a ray of light, turning it this way and that. “Truth be told, I found it on the ground one day. We were throwing a ball to build up our finger strength. I missed it. Had to go deep into the weeds outside the dorm to look for it. Saw the key and pocketed it. Later, I tried it out on the locked doors I could get to, like the roof and the basement.”

  “Then he came running for me.” Brentor sighed. “He’s helpless on his own.”

  “Does it open anything else?” Babette asked.

  “Don’t think so.” Marcus frowned. “I’m sure if it opened anything important it wouldn’t have been where I found it. And if it does, I don’t want to know.”

  “You should have turned it in to the masters,” Spaldeer said.

  Marcos’ mouth opened. “Whatever for? I’m sure they don’t even know its missing. I need it to see the journeymen classes.”

  I grabbed Spaldeer’s arm before he could respond. “Come on, let’s finish this up so we can leave. Dinner, remember?”

  Spaldeer held his stomach. “Fine. I hope there’s at least cold gruel left.”

  Suddenly, we heard a loud noise from the far end of the corridor opposite where we had entered.

  “In here.” Babette rushed into one of the half-empty doorless side rooms, where we all crouched and squeezed behind a disorganized stack of boxes.

  Hinges creaked, and we felt a disturbance in the air. A rattling noise grew louder.

  We held our breaths.

  Babette’s hand found mine and squeezed. Dumbly, I squeezed back.

  Something large and rectangular wobbled noisily past our hiding place, pushed by a sour-faced seamstress journeyman in dull yellow robes. She walked at a stumbling gait, leaning heavily on the handle of the cart. It was identical to the one we had seen under the boys’ bathroom, and from the way it wobbled, appeared to be empty.

  Babette hissed in my ear. “She’s going to exchange that cart with the half-full one, then fill it up with my clothing on her way out!”

  “You don’t know that,” I replied, but her logic was sound.

  She rose to her feet. “I’m getting my bracelet back.”

  I stood up with her, clutching her arm. “You can’t risk it. She’ll see you.”

  “Not if I hurry.” And with that, Babette sped from the room, turning left into the corridor toward where we expected the other laundry cart to be located.

  “Get back here,” Marcos said in a low voice.

  Brentor slapped his head, looking disgusted. “Do you think she’ll turn us in?”

  Spaldeer’s face was white, and he seemed unable to speak.

  With a groan, I hurried after her, hoping to help her retrieve the bracelet and make it back to our hiding place before the seamstress headed back this way. I peeked down the corridor to the right and saw the seamstress just turning into the other laundry room. I sprinted left, finding the laundry room located under Babette’s bathroom with Babette bent over the cart, heaving a pile of clothes onto the floor.

  “Hurry up.” I took up a position at the doorway, watching for the seamstress’ return.

  “I can’t find it!”

  “Keep looking.”

  “Well, what else would I be doing?”

  Fingers digging into the doorway, I stared down the corridor.

  “Here’s my bracelet! What the—” Babette abruptly stood up.

  Despite myself I turned my head away from the hallway. Besides the glint of gold and flash of red and green gems dangling from her fingers, there was a large book in her hands. “Where did that come from?”

  She glared at me. “From my rear end. Where do you think?”

  Spaldeer slipped into the room. “What are you doing? Is that the bracelet?”

  “She found a book,” I said.

  “A book? Where did that come from?”

  Babette rolled her eyes.

  “Wait a minute.” Spaldeer’s eyes widened. “That looks like a peacekeeper training book.”

  My eyes focused on the cover, which consisted of a large yellow and orange dragon head on a black background. The ends were frayed and the colors faded. This book was old. I could not decipher the gold, scripted writing above the dragon. “What does it say?”

  Spaldeer took the volume from Babette, frowning. “It’s written in one of the Founders’ languages, but I’m not familiar with it. At any rate, it doesn’t belong in a laundry cart.”

  I grabbed both their arms and yanked them toward the doorway. “We can’t stay here and analyze it. We have to hide.” As I stepped out of the room and looked to my left, I could see the seamstress’ cart also entering the hallway. The nearest doorway was just across the hall to our right, so I dragged my friends through it with great haste before her head emerged.

  This room contained pieces of old, broken furniture. There were assorted chairs missing legs, small tables cracked in half, and a large desk with the top smashed in. A splintery bookcase without shelves leaned against the wall that bordered the outside, below the narrow window that let in some light. We hunkered down behind a large armchair that smelled of mold and mice droppings as the rattling cart grew closer.

  Spaldeer seemed oblivious now to our plight, eagerly turning pages in the book. While the writing was unfamiliar to me, it also contained strange pictures with astonishing clarity. There were men I didn’t recognize wearing odd clothing—loose fitting, but not robes—and later, two of the men demonstrated some form of fighting technique through a series of pictures to convey the motion involved.

  The thought struck me then. “A fighting manual?”

  “It appears that way. Looks like a second volume.” Spaldeer turned another page, filled with the unknown script. “But I’m unsure what kind.”

  Babette had turned toward the bookcase behind us with a curious expression and was poking around at the back near the bottom.

  “Oh dear! Oh dear!” The seamstress’ old, crackling voice echoed up and down the corridor. “Where is it? Where could it be?”

  We cowered behind the armchair, faces pale. Spaldeer hugged the book to his chest.

  “They won’t be happy about this. They won’t be happy at all.”

  Hurried footsteps approached and passed our room. Hinges squeaked, and a door slammed shut.

  I jumped to my feet. “We need to report this to the masters.”

  “Report what? Let’s get out of here.” Marcos stood in the doorway, glancing anxiously toward the end of the corridor.

  “Wait a minute,” Babette said.

  Brentor shook his head. “No time to wait. She was so agitated she left her cart. Someone will be back any second. Maybe the masters.”

  “She was missing this.” Spaldeer held up the book.

  “What?” Marcos narrowed his eyes and stepped closer. “Where did that come from?”
/>   Babette sighed. “It was in the laundry cart.”

  “But how did it get there?” Brentor asked.

  Spaldeer opened the book again. “Someone threw it down the chute, of course. Probably for the seamstress to retrieve, from her reaction.”

  Marcos frowned. “Then they must be putting it back.”

  “Do you think someone copied it, then?” I asked.

  Marcos pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded. “You remember that hospitality apprentice you uncovered last year? The boy who killed himself after he was caught?”

  I swallowed hard. “Col.”

  Brentor swung a fist at the wall. “Then whoever was behind that, found a new way to extract peacekeeper secrets.”

  Marcos nodded again. “They must have a way into the library. And a new method of copying books so no one knows they were missing.”

  “We have to tell the masters at once,” I said.

  Marcos looked at Brentor. “He’s right, isn’t he?”

  “Quite right.”

  “We can say the door was unlocked. Let’s go, then.”

  “Just one second—” Babette started to say.

  She was interrupted by door hinges groaning and the clattering of many footsteps that sounded like an avalanche.

  An authoritative voice burst out. “Search every corner, every crack, every square inch of space. No one leaves this basement until that book is found!”

  Chapter Six—The Tunnel

  We stared at each other in shocked silence, frozen in place as though we’d stepped into a pit of tar.

  Except for Babette. She was hunched down by the bottom of the bookcase, pushing against the backboard. “There’s an opening behind here.”

  “An opening?” I repeated.

  Our heads swiveled back and forth between the doorway and her.

  Spaldeer recovered first, pulling us down behind the armchair as the footsteps surged past.

  “Yes, an opening,” she whispered. “I felt a draft and when I reached behind me, my hand just kept going.”

  “Make sure that door at the other end is still locked.” The voice sounded familiar to me, but with the surrounding noise and resulting echoes I could not quite place it.