by Konig, Artor
We followed him out, most of us. Eight or nine chose to remain in the keep, going up the stairs to have a look around. June, Simon and three others made their way to the northeast tower, Garreth, Bernhart and James followed the Doctor to the north-west tower, leaving me by myself in the dark courtyard. I looked across to the south tower; the base of this was the sprawling kitchen of the keep. Below that was one of the stairways down to the Wren’s Nest through the cellars.
Being handy to the kitchen made sense to me as I was obviously going to spend a lot of my time there. I heaved up my cases, felt my slippers still in my pocket then walked languidly and sedately back into the kitchen. I found the larder and scullery, took note of where everything was. It did not take me long to discover the stairs aloft into the wide and squat base of the tower itself.
The stairway was a square spiral with a landing leading into an L-shaped passage from its corner on every fourth landing.
One branch of the passage went north, the other went east. On the northern passage there were windows on the west side, rooms on the east and one at the north. On the eastern passage there were rooms on either side of the passage and one room at the end of the hallway. This layout was repeated for three levels above the kitchen. The final two levels of the tower were simply rooms wrapped around the staircase, the stairs leading onto an open roof, balustraded with a slightly sloping floor leading any rainwater into four efficient-looking gargoyles.
I dumped my cases on that first landing, thinking that I was likely to take the room at the end of the northern hallway. I didn’t even go down the passages on each level; I simply stormed up the stair, turning on the passage light on each landing, glancing around then going up to the next level. In the highest two levels I opened the only door on each landing, looked into the dark but comfortable room within before going up. I stood at last on the wide and bare roof of the southern tower, looking all ways at the empty ocean so terribly far below me. There were lights in the two northern towers, lights showing in the keep and one or two hints of movement below me. Simon hailed me from the roof of the north-eastern tower, June beside him and the lights of a few rooms showing beneath. I could not hear his voice; I could only see the flash of white skin as he waved his hand at me through the howling darkness. The slate roof of the keep below us was empty, the top of the wall with its walkway deserted and crowded with straggling creepers.
I waved at the couple on that roof before going back down into the gloom of the stairway. I drew the heavy trapdoor across on its sliding runners, feeling its solidness as it thudded home. The sound was cushioned; the door was fitted with painstaking precision. I galloped down the staircase, turning off the lights as I went. I gathered up my cases and went along the northern passage. I stopped to look through one of the windows into the west. Down below me I saw the outer courtyard about ninety feet below my window, to the north of the tower. I could just see the ledge on the western side of the roundhouse’s foot, leading to the north away from the courtyard. I looked into the darkness, seeing that the moon had vanished completely into the west. At the base we had just left it was barely nine ‘o’clock; the morning was doing its stuff. My watch was exactly twelve hours out of synch. I sighed a small sigh and padded along to my room, wondering what it would look like.
I had chosen well. The suite beyond the door at the north of the passage was complete in itself, the bedroom equipped with windows on three walls. It was built out of the wall overlooking the courtyard with windows facing southwest and north-west. The suite consisted of a lounge with comfortable furniture and a bookshelf, desk and various bits of fairly modern office equipment; obviously used as a study by whoever had been here last. There was the bedroom, the huge and luxurious round bed which I eyed dubiously. There was a walk-in closet, the bathroom with all the goodies and more. The bedside lamps were a peaceful shade of blue, the curtained windows reaching to the floor. There was a balcony on the northern side of the room leading out through French windows on the north-western wall. The room was somewhat dusty and neglected, but it certainly did not seem as if the chamber had been standing empty for decades. I plonked my cases down on the thick carpet, drew the curtains quickly, before lighting one of the bedside lamps against my return.
It struck me then that I had been awake for slightly more than five hours; there was no need for me even to begin to think about going to bed. I stopped in my lounge to see what was there, glancing over the paperbacks on the bookshelf. There were a couple of filing cabinets and reams of paper, a photocopier and miles of storage space for files and a slightly dilapidated computer with a printer. The desk drawers were filled with stationary of various descriptions.
I at once decided that I would do a spot of writing in my spare time, indulging the real desire that I had always cherished. I hadn’t so much as written a poem for two or three years; ever since my father’s rankling attitude had bugged me into trying to win his approval. But now I could spend my free time just as I liked. It was as if a weight eased its pressure from my chest. Not entirely, however; but enough for me to draw a comfortable breath for the first time in what must have been weeks.
I drew the curtains around the only window in that little lounge, a bay window projecting in a quarter-circular cylinder on the southwest corner of the room. The window-seat, large enough to seat two comfortably, was but one of the seats in that study. I stretched myself to my full height, my hands above my head and my hair flung back. I shook my head, feeling the weight of my hair falling behind me. I turned on the desk lamp then left the room. I had left the passage light on and I walked quickly down the polished floor to the stairway. I galloped down the stairs, entering the kitchen close to the larder. I was feeling distinctly peckish, though it was early. Having found the urn conveniently close to the scullery tap, I filled it and set it going. Knowing that I had a goodly while before the water was hot enough to be used, I turned my attention elsewhere. Although toasted cheese sandwiches seemed to be the staple meal in the base, the idea of sandwiches seemed slightly shocking in amongst the airs and grandeurs of the Crag. The Doctor had provided us with a number of automatic bread-makers in recognition of our diet but it didn’t sit well with me then. I found a large teapot and shovelled some good Assam into it then turned around thoughtfully, looking for inspiration.
I nosed about in the cold room, selecting various bits and pieces. Finally I decided on what I thought was a worthwhile project. I assembled all the ingredients I thought I would need, turned on the huge old range and forged ahead. The meal was more-or-less ready to serve before anybody entered that part of the kitchen; the tea was ready to pour.
“There’s the lass.” Sam said cheerfully, “You’ve been rather a busy bee, then?”
“Yes I have. But where is everybody; I thought they would be trotting through the kitchen to get down to the Nest and unload?” I asked plaintively, worried that the food may go cold before anybody knew of its existence.
“There’s another stairway down from the keep and from the roundhouse.” Sam informed me, “This place is a honeycomb of gloomy tunnels and secret passages.”
June came trotting in just then, “You beat me to the draw once again love.” She told me, “Let me tell the boys it’s ready.” She went to a comlink by the kitchen door, informed the little grey box that supper was ready and then turned to help me transport it, laden on two trolleys, into the hall. Sam was saddled with the tea-trolley; this he seemed to manage fairly well. We made our way through the green-flood-lit yard, the flood-lamps shining through the leaves of ivy and jasmine to the hall where about half of the crew awaited us anxiously. The rest came panting up the stairs in one corner of the room; a quick way down to the Nest, I perceived.
The Doctor and Garreth came last, having decided to leave the radar post to its own devices for the moment. We settled down to the meal in relative silence. It occurred to me that the open walk between the kitchen and the hall would be a bit of a pest during the rain; I gave air to this opini
on.
“We’ll eat in the kitchen during the rain.” Bernhart suggested helpfully. June poured appropriate scorn on that plan.
“I’ll rig an awning of some sort.” Craig told me cheerfully, “I haven’t done any carpentry for ages and we seem to have a well-equipped workshop downstairs.”
“There are metal poles and sheeting,” Alex added, “We can use that. Don’t you worry, little lady. I, Alex, will make this awning for you!” I didn’t reply; I wasn’t sure to whom he was addressing his remarks. Alex was one of the larger men in the hall, solid and heavily built. But he lacked a good five inches of being able to call me little.
“That will be a helpful spare-time project for us.” The Doctor agreed. We finished the meal in thoughtful silence. Most of the lads returned to the task of unloading the Wrens against their being needed. The Doctor told six of us to take it easy and then post ourselves on alert in eight hours time. We were to decide just who would be on shift at any given time. That matter was not firmly decided then; it was an issue that was never really settled. Most of us tended to be awake or asleep, more a matter of chance than of any predetermined order. It was largely my own fault, I suppose, mine and June’s, since we prepared the three daily meals and sometimes tea at more or less the same time each day and anybody who was on night-shift had to fend for himself, something on which the boys were not too keen.
June and I removed the clutter from the hall. We had been eating at the massive round table on one side of the hall since the meal I had prepared was not the sort most of us would eat on our laps. The huge table could have seated twice our number without a push. The silver and the fine china had come from a sideboard. We loaded it all up on the trolleys to be dumped into the dishwasher. I looked up at the green-shrouded flood-lamps that lit the narrow yard. The creepers were rampant, cladding everything under their probing fingers. The scent of blossoms lay heavily on the night air; jasmine in particular seemed quite strong that evening. I stopped at the base of the wall, looking at the massive trunk of a honeysuckle vine; the trunk was thicker than my thigh. I pushed my trolley along after June, parked it conveniently next to the dishwasher and left her to it. “See you June; I’ll trot along down and help the boys.”
“Right-ho love, you go ahead.” She agreed amiably.
I scampered down the stairs leading to the cellars, passing down to the third level before I found the other staircase, the one leading into the hall. It was on the far side of the cellars, in plain sight if one happened to be looking that way. I found it because Jim, who was on his way up, shone his torch at me. “Lend a hand, lass, this interferometer is a bastard.” He told me as he struggled with a vast piece of shiny machinery. I trotted over to him obediently, looking at the curious instrument he was trying to manhandle up the stairs. I attached myself onto one end of it, thereby simplifying matters. We unloaded it in a room on the second level of the cellars in a place that had been set up as a physics laboratory. The chamber was brightly lit, its walls tiled white. There was any number of power outlets, most of them feeding one or more instruments. We carried Jim’s toy along to one end of the hall and plonked it down in a conveniently empty spot. We turned away, back to the stairs for another load.
Down in the Nest the gear had all been unloaded from the five craft and sorted into three main piles. The first pile Harry told me was to be moved into the adjoining cavern where the lower control hall was situated. That pile consisted of sensitive electronic gear to be hooked up into the system already in place.
I carried one or two bits and pieces into there, more to see what was going on in the high-domed hall with its banks of monitors and scanners than to be actually useful.
Pile number two was stores; most of this was to be taken either to the kitchen or the first level of cellars. Pile number three was equipment that was to be taken up to the lab or up to the roundhouse. I collared a likely-looking case from that pile, was directed to the sixth-level of the roundhouse and left to it. The case was rather heavy, being filled with some sort of high-tech that seemed to involve a lot of solid metal. By the time I found myself back in the hall I had worked it out that I had travelled up eight storeys of the old, tall sort. And there were six to go when I had found my way to the base of the roundhouse. I met the Doctor on his way down and he looked at me critically, “You should call it a day now, Cassandra. June has already retired and your day has been more strenuous than hers. The sooner you get to sleep the sooner you will acclimatize; you are twelve hours ahead of the clock, don’t forget.”
“You’re right, Doctor. I worked it out that if I got myself tired now, I’d get to sleep that much more easily; that’s why I haven’t quit yet.” I replied carefully.
“Sound enough logic,” He conceded, “But you’ll find that you are not going to sleep well at first, however tired you are. Please knock off when you’ve unloaded that case. Garreth will show you where to put it.” He turned away from me and went swiftly down the stairs. I saw Garreth further up the stairs and decided that the Doctor hadn’t been able to tell me his real reason why he wanted me to rest now because there were others there to hear him.
I gave the case to Garreth, bade him a cheerful goodnight, turning away and heading back down the stairs. On the fourth level of the roundhouse I made my way along the passage to the southern side, finding a doorway leading onto the top of the wall. I poked my nose out into the cold, looking thoughtfully at the creeper-bedevilled walkway. I closed the door behind me and made my way across the wide walkway, buffeted by a wind far stronger than I had expected. I walked in a half-crouch, making my way at a good pace to the door in my own tower. My hair whipped in my eyes; I had to free a hand to restrain the unruly golden locks. I let myself in, closing the wild wind out behind me; having to open the door again to release strands of my hair that had been caught by the door. I ambled down the stairs to the kitchen where I made up a generous helping of powdered milk.
I placed it in the microwave then set a few of the bread-makers against my morning sandwich requirement. There was no bread in the kitchen at all and I knew we would need at least five loaves the next day. I found myself a neglected packet of biscuits, scooped up my hot milk and trotted happily up the stairs. I was not feeling really tired, but I wasn’t exactly bursting with energy either. I decided that I would do a spot of unpacking, have a close look around my territory and then hit the shower. I would find myself a book; maybe a notebook as well; and read myself to sleep. I shut my door and placed my booty by the lamp beside my bed. I locked my door and dragged my cases over to the closet. I found a set of drawers and shoved everything into those.
Suddenly I was tired, but my mind wasn’t easy. I remembered the tenuous trace the Doctor had shown me during the flight over, remembered his conclusion; the rational deduction of an intelligent and highly educated man. There, alone in my room, alone in that tower, I felt the cold of terror for the first time.
After that feeling overwhelmed my heart I could not settle. I could not hope to sleep with those thoughts ragging at my mind, fraying my nerves with horror. I paced up and down my room then into the bathroom, finding it leading into another room; a second bedroom that was part of the suite. I looked around the smaller, cosier room, seeing its only window shrouded with green, looking down into the courtyard, its view taken up by the bulk of the keep. I peered restively through the window into the floodlit court yard; the floodlights were above the level of this window.
I turned from the window, finding a short passage beyond the room’s second door. This led me around a corner and left me beside the bookcase in my study. I peered through the bay window at the ocean leading away, into darkness. I shook my head, turning from the study and going once more into the passage. At the staircase I hesitated before turning my head right, up. The restless energy had me now, turning my mind from any thought of rest or peace. I surged up the staircase, four treads at a time until I stood on the landing of the fourth level. Here I stopped in momentary indecision before
striding down the east passage. As I had more-or-less expected, the end of the passage had a small side passage leading to a heavy wooden door. I went down the passage, thrusting the door impatiently open, feeling the weight of the night air pressing the door back. I stepped out onto the other walkway, seeing the black mass of the north-eastern tower ahead. The door on the other side of the walkway was open, light showing beyond. I saw two figures on the ledge that joined this walkway to the northern wall, standing silently in the gloom. I looked to my right, peering over the wall at the sheer drop, right to the ocean disturbingly far below.
I retreated back into the comfortable darkness of my tower, leaving Simon and June in peace. I sealed the night out and padded back to the stairway, feeling lost and desolate, feeling the terrible need to talk to someone. I was well aware that there was nobody to talk to just yet. The Doctor had already sent me off; I would not be able to talk to him before morning. And he and I alone had this terrible secret; I could speak to no-one else; not yet.
