The Midnight Charter

by David Whitley

  ‘We don’t ask for anything in return, sir,’ Lily said in a still, firm voice. ‘We give our food, our skills, without reward.’

  This time even the inspector looked shaken. He breathed in as if to speak, but seemed to think better of it. Sergeant Pauldron, however, was not so quiet. He threw his notes to the floor.

  ‘Didn’t I tell you, sir?’ he said, red with anger. ‘I said that was what they were doing! Undermining the very bedrock on which Agora is founded…’

  ‘Thank you, Sergeant,’ the inspector said hurriedly, but this time Pauldron was not to be silenced.

  ‘You think it will stop here, sir?’ he continued, growing louder. ‘Once it gets around that you can be a debtor and still be fed for free, who will want to work or trade or…’

  ‘That is enough!’ The inspector barely increased the volume of his voice, but suddenly it seemed to resonate within the temple.

  Sergeant Pauldron was instantly quiet. The inspector frowned.

  ‘You are becoming over-agitated again, Pauldron. Take some time off and I’ll meet you back at the barracks this afternoon. I shall finish here.’

  The sergeant looked as if he was about to protest, but the inspector turned away. Scowling, Pauldron made a stiff bow and opened the door. As he left, he shook his feet, as though the very dust on the floor was polluted.

  After the sergeant left, Inspector Greaves sat and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, Lily saw that his composure had returned.

  ‘Sergeant Pauldron is a young man, very passionate about his work and about our glorious city,’ he began, reaching down to one side to pick up the notes. ‘However, he makes a good point. Our system is based on trade. Without it we grind to a halt. It makes this place suspicious. Highly suspicious.’

  Lily caught Benedicta’s eye and saw her own nervousness reflected there. If the receivers wanted to close them down, they could, and they wouldn’t even have to compensate them, because technically nothing would be lost.

  ‘Just answer me one thing, Miss Lilith,’ the inspector continued. ‘Is it your food that feeds these hundreds? Is it your possessions alone that will be split among thousands of debtors?’

  Hurriedly, Lily pulled a sealed contract out of her apron pocket and handed it to the inspector.

  ‘Signor and Signora Sozinho have agreed to supply us regularly with art objects to trade for food and blankets. They have asked for nothing more than to know that they are helping others, as we helped them. They are our first patrons, and our only ones, at the moment. We are trying to encourage others to do the same.’

  Lily watched as the inspector read the contract, his eyes lingering over the seal of the Sozinhos, which was covered in musical notes. He finished and rolled it up.

  ‘May I speak bluntly, Miss Lilith?’ he asked.

  Lily looked at the inspector. There was a curious gleam in his eyes, as though he was taking apart every word she said – testing her to see if she was up to the job she had set herself. For a moment, she wondered what the right answer was. And then, as if they were sharing a secret joke, she understood. What she said did not matter. He wanted to see if she would be confident enough to give an answer of her own.

  ‘You’re going to anyway,’ she said, raising an eyebrow, ‘so why should I say no?’

  The inspector gave a grunt of satisfaction.

  ‘Very true. Then let me say this. If you think that this will do any good, then you have no idea of the number of debtors, of hopeless wretches, in this city.’ The inspector rose, his tone reasonable but firm. ‘You will run yourselves into the ground with this and pour your little wealth into it until you are debtors yourself. If you think you can make something out of nothing you are fools, all of you, arrogant fools.’ He paused, his gaze taking in the whole of the temple, his eyes sparkling in the coloured light streaming through the stained-glass windows. ‘However, the last time I looked there was no law against foolishness.’ He smiled, but his eyes were serious. ‘Take records of everything and forward them to me, I shall follow this case personally. My advice to you is that you stop immediately. I know very well that you won’t take it. Good morning, Miss Lilith.’

  The inspector bowed, took one final look around and left, closing the door softly behind him.

  Lily and Benedicta looked at each other in silence. Then Lily collapsed backwards on to a pew, suddenly exhausted, and Benedicta burst out laughing.

  Lily frowned. ‘It didn’t seem very funny to me,’ she said.

  ‘Who cares what he said?’ Benedicta grinned. ‘He wasn’t ever going to be over the moon about it, was he? The point is, they’re not going to stop you!’

  ‘Us, Benedicta,’ Lily said, a tired smile growing on her own face.

  Never mind that in the back of her mind an unpleasant thought was nagging that Inspector Greaves might be right, Benedicta’s enthusiasm was infectious.

  ‘Nice of you to say, Lily, but it was your idea,’ Benedicta said dreamily. ‘I’ve never seen the Signora so happy. And I know we’re going to make a difference, you, me, my brother and sister, if they ever turn up… I just know it! They’re experts at praising and advertising. You’ll see. Give them a week and we’ll have rich patrons desperate to be part of this!’

  Lily shook her head, amazed.

  ‘That’s not going to happen, Ben,’ she said. ‘Think about it – this place… It’s completely different from anything they’ve ever seen. We’ll be lucky if we get any more patrons at all for a long time. We’ve put everything we’ve got into this. If it fails…’

  ‘Then it fails,’ Benedicta said quietly, her face more serious, ‘and if that happens we’ll manage.’ She bit her lip. ‘If you don’t laugh, then all you can do is –’

  There was another knock on the door. Benedicta’s eyes instantly began to shine again and the smile returned as if it had never been away.

  ‘That’s them!’ she said as she hurried across the room. ‘I just know you’ll like them, Lily. They’ll be just what we need…’ She opened the door and jumped with excitement. ‘Gloria! Laud! Come in and meet Lily.’

  As Lily watched, a familiar young woman entered the temple. Her curly red hair reached almost to her waist and she seemed more pale and thin than ever, but there was no mistaking the figure she had seen flitting around Miss Devine’s shop, or the delight with which she embraced her sister.

  The young man who followed a moment later was new to her, but he too had a distinctive mane of red hair. He frowned as he looked around the temple, walking straight past Lily as she offered her hand.

  ‘Needs work, don’t you think, Gloria?’

  ‘Laud!’ the pale sister scolded him. ‘Don’t start, not in front of –’

  ‘I’m not saying it’s a hopeless case,’ Laud continued, wiping one of his gloved fingers along the pews. He stared at it critically, before brushing it off on the lapel of his elegantly cut, fawn jacket. ‘But I do think we’ll have to play up the desperation angle, make it clear that this is positively the last hope and that no one else would ever come here…’

  ‘Laud,’ Benedicta said quickly, ‘let me introduce Lily. She’s the organizer,’ she added, placing particular stress on the last words.

  Laud turned to look at Lily and hesitated, just for an instant, before shaking her hand briskly. Although he seemed to be only a few years older than her, Lily felt far younger under his critical gaze than she had just a few minutes before with the inspector.

  Laud turned away and sniffed sharply.

  ‘The smell could be a problem. Potential patrons may want to visit, and short of insisting that every debtor who enters find a water butt to wash in first…’ He noticed something in the corner and stalked over to inspect. ‘Are these incense burners? They might just do the job.’

  ‘Ben’s told us all about you, Miss Lily,’ Gloria said, taking Lily’s hand with considerably more enthusiasm. ‘An astounding notion and one from which we may all reap great rewards.’

  ‘I r
eally hope that these are animal droppings in this corner,’ Laud muttered.

  Gloria twisted a strand of hair round her finger and continued as if she had not heard her brother.

  ‘We won’t be able to work on it full-time, since we’re not charging our usual rate.’

  Benedicta gave Gloria a hard look and her older sister hastily added, ‘In fact, we’re not charging anything.’

  ‘For the moment,’ Laud added, in a tone that would brook no argument. ‘Benedicta has assured us that it is only a temporary measure, until you have enough donations. Then we shall draw up our contracts.’ He looked around the temple, its scruffy grandeur picked out by the multicoloured light of the stained-glass windows. He raised one eyebrow. ‘Still… definite possibilities. It certainly has atmosphere.’ He shrugged. ‘That sort of thing appeals to those with more possessions than sense. We’ll need to start spreading word of this throughout the grander parts of the city, of course. You won’t find many willing to part with anything around here… Any other floors?’

  It seemed that Benedicta was not the only one in her family to ask sudden, unexpected questions. Lily gave a stiff nod.

  ‘There’s a cellar, where the doctor takes his worst patients,’ she said, ‘and an open roof.’

  Lily found that her arms were very tightly crossed. Laud looked about for a moment, then located the stairs.

  ‘Better look the whole place over,’ he murmured. ‘Perhaps if we sold patronage as a short cut to moral worth… That would certainly get some of the more disreputable dealers interested, and they usually have wealth to spare…’

  And, still thinking aloud, Laud ascended the stairs and vanished from view.

  Lily felt herself relax a little and saw Benedicta do the same. Gloria gave Lily an embarrassed smile.

  ‘He’s very good at what he does,’ she explained, ‘but he tends to get wrapped up in his work. He always has.’

  ‘So I noticed,’ Lily said, trying to sound unconcerned. Internally, however, she couldn’t help feeling that her idea, her dream, had just been sullied in a way that the receivers could never have managed.

  Something must have shown in her face, because Gloria continued, ‘I know he seems… a bit sharp, but –’

  Lily held up a hand to stop her, trying to keep a polite expression.

  ‘I’m sorry… I appreciate your help, but if you’re about to tell me that your brother isn’t really like that when you get to know him…’

  ‘Oh no,’ Gloria said, with a smile, ‘when you get to know him he’s even worse.’ Her smile faded. ‘But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t do his best. It doesn’t mean we don’t believe.’

  Benedicta nodded, laying a hand on Lily’s arm.

  ‘It’s just the way it is, Lily – you need patrons and Laud knows how to attract them…’

  Lily bridled and shook Benedicta off.

  ‘I’m not sure I want his sort of patron,’ she said tightly. ‘This isn’t about “selling virtue”, it’s about charity. Even the receivers understood that.’

  Gloria gave a strained look, somewhere between a smile and a wince.

  ‘Yes, Miss Lily… but they probably don’t want it to succeed.’

  There was an uncomfortable pause, then Lily walked away.

  Behind her, she was aware that Gloria and Benedicta were fiddling with the old brass incense burners in the corner, but right now she wasn’t interested. Her insides were clenched like a fist. After everything she had done to get the Almshouse started, she wasn’t going to let it be ruined by some patronizing advertiser. Determined to speak with Laud out of the hearing of his sisters, she began to climb the stairs to the roof.

  Lily found him leaning on the brick parapet that surrounded the terrace. In the daylight, it looked even less grand than it sounded, a few square yards of roof hemmed in with walls, every inch of floor space covered with drying herbs. She picked her way across the floor until she was standing nearby.

  ‘Not a good view,’ Laud said, without turning round. ‘I had thought perhaps a woodcut of the premises… It might be best if the patrons never visit at all.’

  ‘Wouldn’t they prefer to see who they’re helping?’ Lily said, her irritation rising.

  ‘To see them, possibly. Not to smell them. The wealthy are squeamish like that. The Almshouse has to be built in their imagination.’

  ‘I thought you were supposed to be good at praising things?’ she said sarcastically.

  ‘Only when I’m working, Miss Lily,’ he replied, turning to face her. ‘Would you prefer me to treat you as a buyer rather than the proprietor? I hear from Benedicta that you appreciate honesty.’

  ‘Do you lie to all the buyers?’ Lily asked, meeting his gaze firmly.

  Laud’s look was intense, but not hostile.

  ‘It helps,’ he admitted. ‘When they lie to themselves so often, truth is not really welcomed.’

  ‘Truth is what this is about, Mr Laud,’ Lily said frostily. ‘This whole place is about facing reality.’

  Laud seemed to consider this, his eyes never leaving her face. His next words, when they did come, surprised her.

  ‘How old are you, Miss Lily?’

  ‘I’ve lived through thirteen summers,’ Lily replied cautiously.

  ‘A little old for believing in ideas like absolute truth, don’t you think?’ Laud said, his tone oddly strained. ‘People want nothing to do with anything that disturbing. Still, if I don’t live up to your standards, if I’m not allowed to play with your toys…’

  Lily choked back her response, refusing to let herself rise to the bait. It would be so easy to throw him out: she had the power, she was the one hiring him, fee or no fee. But that would turn her into the little girl he so obviously saw her as, and she would not be caught that easily. Instead, she raised an eyebrow.

  ‘How old are you, Mr Laud?’ she said.

  Laud shrugged. ‘Seventeen.’

  ‘A little young to be quite so bitter, don’t you think?’ Lily said.

  There was a long pause. Something in Laud’s eyes seemed to darken, as though she had caught a glimpse of pain within. And then, in a sudden, percussive bark, he laughed.

  ‘Fine, Miss Lily, we’ll try it your way,’ he said, a hint of amusement still on his face. ‘Perhaps truth is about to receive a boost in value.’

  He held out his hand. Lily looked at it for a moment and then, relaxing, she shook it. Laud seemed pleased.

  ‘Anyway,’ he said, in a friendlier tone, ‘I don’t think there was ever much chance of my leaving. Once Ben sets her mind on something…’ He shook his head and smiled fondly. ‘She has a lot of faith in you.’

  ‘I won’t let her down,’ Lily said firmly.

  As they stood there, facing each other, Lily became aware of a new scent on the air – a heavy, rich odour, far stronger than the faded whiff that had greeted her when she first entered the temple. Laud nodded, his face businesslike once again.

  ‘Seems as if my sisters have got the incense burning,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps hanging one of the burners outside the door might attract some attention… Yes, that should certainly tell people that you’ve arrived.’

  But Lily was barely listening. Instead she watched as a tiny curl of smoke from the incense rose up the stairwell and dissipated into the air, its rich scent flowing out over the city. And although to Laud she only replied with a similar nod, inside she felt her heart leap in her chest.

  She had begun.

  Interlude Two

  The pen scratches as it moves along the paper. The hand holding it is dry and withered, but does not falter.

  ‘And so, our suspicions are proved correct, Miss Rita. Their rise has begun.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Her hands are dark. Her nails are painted, but chipped. They dig into the sheaf of papers she holds to her chest.

  ‘Already they flock to them,’ he says. ‘The highest in society and those who are left behind.’

  The pen is dipped in
to the inkpot without a splash. The ancient hands draw forth another sheet of paper.

  ‘I have been thinking, Miss Rita, on the subject of fate.’

  Miss Rita’s hands tense on the papers she holds.

  ‘Fate, sir?’

  ‘Our futures are tied to the scales of life, Miss Rita. A single grain of sand can tip the balance in our favour or against.’ The Director pauses, pressing an iron signet ring down into a blob of dark crimson wax. ‘One grain of sand, one thought or deed, can rise us up or plunge us into the depths.’ He places the last document to one side and puts the tips of his fingers together. ‘But we are apt to forget sometimes that it then takes only two grains of sand on the other side to tip our world upside down.’

  Miss Rita picks up the last document and turns away from the desk.

  ‘They will not come to harm, Miss Rita.’

  The secretary freezes.

  ‘But they will be in danger?’

  ‘If there is a world without danger, Miss Rita, then it lies beyond our knowledge. But yes, they are in more danger than most. Particularly from those who believe that they are the two predicted by the Midnight Charter.’

  Miss Rita’s hands clench so tightly that the knuckles turn white.

  ‘Are they, sir?’

  ‘I am certain. We have been wrong in the past, but now the final date approaches and it seems… fitting that they should be children. For the sake of the great Libran project, they must fulfil their role, must be watched but not influenced by the Directory. Not until the moment is right. The Charter demands it.’

  ‘But is the Charter right?’ the secretary whispers.

  There is silence.

  ‘The Charter, Miss Rita, is always right. By definition. That is all.’

  ‘Yes. Thank you, sir.’

  The tap of Miss Rita’s shoes fades away into the distance. The door at the far end of the room closes.

  It is some time before the Director takes up his pen again and this time when he writes he splashes ink as he dips his pen. As if his fingers are suddenly tense.