‘As if we were not all aware how much “hospitality” goes on in the men’s bathhouse!’ she snorted.
Enobar was lurking in the kitchen doorway behind grandmama’s back. Mouthing, Is it true? The gold rings? Anabara gave him the fig. He tossed his black ringlets.
‘Don’t worry.’ Grandmama stroked Anabara’s cheek. ‘I’ll have Butros sort this out, my darling. Well! A Zaarzuk is a splendid choice! In fact, you could scarcely have done better, I think.’
‘Actually, grandmama, we didn’t—’
‘True, they are a byword for lechery, but highborn Galen women have taken Zaarzuk lovers in the past. Queen Zephnia, for example…’ Anabara tried to focus on the Zaarzuk Consorts Down the Ages lecture, but Enobar was posing in the doorway with a cucumber by way of illustration. ‘Well, it’s true,’ concluded grandmama. ‘I don’t know why you find this so amusing, Anabara.’ She turned. ‘Where’s that tisane?’
Enobar whisked out of sight, then came back with the tray. ‘I totally agree, mistress.’ He set down the tea and perched on a stool at grandmama’s feet like another pampered lapdog. ‘But unfortunately, Tadzar Dal Ramek is a novice.’
‘That’s easily remedied: he must enroll as an ordinary undergraduate,’ decided grandmama. ‘I will speak to Yannick.’
‘No!’ Anabara flushed. ‘Please don’t get involved. The Zaarzuk is not my lover and he’s not going to be. So can we please move on?’
‘Very well, my dear, but you have no need to be ashamed of the uninhibited pursuit of self-expression.’ Grandmama gestured and Enobar poured the lime blossom tea. ‘With all due respect to the traditions of your father’s people, the fettishising of female chastity is both archaic and repressive. You are seventeen! It’s time you gained some experience, my dear. What about that ravishing Gull boy?’
For God’s sake! Anabara loved her grandmama dearly, but now and then a disloyal thought flashed through her head. How on earth had this shocking old woman produced three such saintly children? One Patriarch, one starched-up Dean of Women and one martyr! ‘Loxi and I are business partners, grandmama. You know what you think about mixing business and pleasure.’
‘Oh,’ said grandmama. ‘Well, we’ll put him on my pay roll instead. I’m sure Enobar can find a job for him.’
‘Oh, mistress!’ Enobar crossed his eyes and gave a happy shiver. ‘I know the exact job I’d like to give him!’
Anabara leant forward and hissed, ‘He’s a Gull, you jackass!’
‘Did you realise, the poor boy has been living in some frightful cockroach-infested hostel, six to a room?’ asked grandmama. ‘Of course, I had him brought up here to my guest quarters the instant I heard about it.’
‘You did what?’ No need to ask whose idea that had been! Right. When Mother Laitolo comes storming in to punch my lights out, I will be referring her to you. But Enobar was too absorbed in admiring his buffed nails to catch her eye.
‘Well, never mind all this. My darling, what is this terrible business with the Guard? I could not believe my ears when the messenger came last night!’
‘Thank you for rescuing me, but I’m sorry,’ said Anabara. ‘Butros has forbidden me to discuss this highly sensitive case with anyone.’
‘Yes, yes, of course he has,’ soothed grandmama, ‘but that doesn’t mean me.’
It took several minutes to convince her that this was, indeed, what Butros had meant. While they argued, Enobar picked up his beribboned lute and began plucking chords.
‘Well,’ said grandmama eventually, ‘Butros knows best, but—I saw that, Enobar!—but I shall have a quiet word with Chief Dhalafan, all the same. He was telling me at the Feast only yesterday that some dreadful Boggan woman has been foisted on them by the Mainlanders. These Offcomers, they mean well, he said, but they do not understand our ways. Don’t worry, Hector Dhalafan will sort it all out, my darling.’
Anabara gave way. It was usually better to nominate something for grandmama to help you with, otherwise she got frustrated and started to help behind your back. ‘Thanks, grandmama. That would be wonderful.’ She kissed the old woman’s cheek.
There were three more lectures to sit through: How to Handle Lowbred Fairy Associates, Reasons Anabara Should Resume her Academic Career, and What the Scholasticus Wants and Why. Then she had to fend off all Enobar’s persuasive wiles as he walked with her to the Library. She threw him a crumb of gossip—a description of Butros’s apartment.
‘No!’ He clapped a hand to his mouth in glee. ‘Mirrors on the ceiling? Oh my God, oh my God, it sounds like a Bogganburg bordello! I won’t tell a soul.’
The lie would be all round Larridy by nightfall. Serve Butros right. If he hadn’t installed a highly illegal memory-wipe charm on his door, she wouldn’t have been forced to make it all up, would she?
It was lunchtime. Now would be a good time to track down the mimic-charm in the Round Room ceiling. And maybe have a nose around in the Stacks and see what this ghost nonsense was all about. She entered the library foyer and headed across the chess-board floor to the Round Room.
Her way was immediately blocked by a large black-robed beadle. Part Gull, by the look of him. ‘Sorry, Ms Nolio. Can’t go in there. My orders are to escort you away from the library. The scholasticus will see you in his study.’
No! How dare the scholasticus humiliate her publicly like this! No point taking it out on the messenger, though. They set off. The beadle’s heavy tread echoed in the foyer. They climbed the sweeping staircase. I’m about to be fired, she thought. Well, that explained Carraman’s presence. Her mind bristled with law suits. I’ll bloody see you in court, you devious, double-dealing, fecking… fecking… librarian!
The beadle rang the bell, then bowed. Anabara glared. Hope you enjoyed your moment of power, you sad small person.
‘Just doing my job, Ms Nolio.’ He glanced left and right. Murmured in Gull, ‘Kick his bony arse, eh.’
CHAPTER 12
‘I demand an explanation, Doctor!’ barked Anabara, getting in first.
It was clear from his prim face what the explanation was: she had brought the Library into disrepute by her lewdness and made a fool of him in front of his colleagues in Chapter. He was not man enough to say this out loud, though.
‘I have taken professional advice.’ He wasn’t looking at her. For fear of contracting the lewdness germ. ‘In the light of which—’
‘What, from Carraman?’
‘That doesn’t concern you!’ he snapped. ‘The Library will be making alternative security arrangements from now on. So if your associate would kindly expedite his report on the state of the ancient charms, we will wind up your contract.’
‘Let me get this straight—you’re firing me?’
‘Please don’t make this difficult for yourself, Ms Nolio.’ He opened the door. ‘That will be all.’
Anabara’s temper flared. ‘You want us to leave the job half done? We are long past the report stage, doctor. My associate has already repaired seven of the windows.’
‘What?’ He forgot himself and looked at her. ‘He has done what to them?’
‘Repaired,’ said Anabara. ‘Restored them to good condition and working order. Renovated, re-pristinated them. Which bit didn’t you follow?’
The scholasticus closed the door and sat down hard on the nearest chair. He got out a white handkerchief and blotted his forehead. ‘Well. Good gracious. Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely.’ She could always change her name and flee the country.
‘Well, good gracious me. I had not thought… I was told… Well, this is thrilling news indeed! You are confident that the work complies with the current heritage legislation?’
‘Absolutely.’ Mngaargh.
‘And I trust there has been no, ah… escalation of costs?’
‘My agency prides itself on sticking to an agreed a fee, Doctor.’ That’s right—we’re lewd, but we’re cheap. ‘So if you’d to allow me back in the Library?’
‘Of cour
se, of course! I apologise for the, ah, misunderstanding.’ He scuttled to his desk, snatched up a quill and began to scribble on a slip of headed parchment. Now his precious budget was safe, she could probably prance nude on High Table with a rose in her teeth. ‘There. That should suffice.’ He handed it to her. ‘Again, my apologies. I’m afraid I had not appreciated that Mr a’Menehaïn was so highly skilled an artisan.’
She treated him to grandmama’s haughtiest stare. ‘I only employ the best, doctor. And now I propose to take a swift look round the Stacks, and—’
‘No!’ His eyes darted to the door.
‘I’m sorry?’
Tick, tick, went the clock.
The scholasticus swallowed. Blotted his forehead again. ‘You can’t. That is to say, the Master of Stacks assures me there are no security issues with the underground book depository. You will find plenty to keep you occupied in the Round Room. The mimic charm, for instance.’ He opened the door for her once more. ‘May I just reiterate how grateful I am for all your hard work, Ms Nolio?’
‘It’s a pleasure, Doctor.’
She headed straight for the Stacks. The door was protected by a top of the range sentinel charm. Carraman’s best. Again, a question mark sprang into her mind. What was Caraman’s role in all this? Just trying to claw back the business he’d lost to her? His sentinel charm trounced her, anyway. In vain she presented her permission slip from the scholasticus and recited the names of her important relatives. No Unauthorised Access, said the sign. By order of the Master of Stacks.
The Master of Stacks? Anabara could vaguely picture him, another skinny spider-legged Galen, but with a stoop like he was carrying an invisible water-bucket in each hand. What the hell did he have to say to anything, though? Why was the scholasticus so freaked out at the thought of her investigating the Stacks? Once again she missed Linna. She’d have cooked up some devious scheme for by-passing official channels. So far Loxi had shown no flair for deviousness. But she had another useful cousin, didn’t she? Rodania. Groan. Anabara left the library, hit the rooftops and sprang from building to building until she reached the scientific quarters.
Rodania was far too polite to allude to Anabara’s disgrace, but she oozed disapproval. No doubt she whole-heartedly endorsed of the Dean of Women’s disciplinary action. Mummy’s disciplinary action. Anabara moved swiftly to safer subjects.
The Master of Stacks, said Rodania, was an obnoxious power-crazed creep, who unfortunately had to be tolerated because he was so efficient that Chapter could not afford to get rid of him. He was appointed thirty-five years ago, and under his rule the Stacks had gone from a chaotic shambles and drain on University money to a slick outfit that ran like clockwork.
No, Rodania had never been down there. Nobody had, just the Stackmaster and his team of assistants. You ordered a book and it was hauled up the chute to the Round Room. Of course nobody had done a stock check recently! Did Anabara have any idea how many books were down there? Millions! Larridy University Library had a copy of every book ever published, both here and on the Mainland! Yes, Rodania would put her mind to it and see if she could come up with a way of getting past the Sentinel charm, although that was highly illegal and flew in the face of umpteen University regulations.
They were perilously close to a discussion of other regulations that one or two individuals had flouted. Anabara thanked her cousin and left before she slapped her silly.
But meanwhile, there had to be another entrance to the Stacks, or how had the pillock, sorry, Zaarzuk got in? Down the book chute? He was too big for that. No chance of questioning him—he’d be off hauling mule carts up Skuller, or whatever punishment the Master had seen fit to dish out. Anabara cringed to think she’d landed Yanni in such a position. She sped back over the roofs to the Round Room to distract herself by looking for the mimic charm. This time the beadle bowed her through the doors.
There were three reading levels above the main floor, circular galleries reached by spiral staircases. At the very top was the stained glass cupola. From the third level balustrade it was a quick spurt up to the narrow ledge that ran round inside the dome. She heard gasps from down below. Don’t panic, citizens. The girl can fly.
As she edged past the windows, clinging to the mullions—the tinkle of glass. She froze. Don’t say Paran really had restored them. My God, he had! The entire window was alive. Horses fidgeted, hooves clinked on pavements, and look! even the standards were rippling in the breeze, supple as fish scales. She edged further. And these must be the ones he hadn’t got to yet—rigid in their lead confines, only their eyes moving. She inched back to study the repaired windows. An angel yawned, spread its wings like a peacock tail, then folded them again, snick-snick-snick. For several minutes she was lost in amazement.
Right. Let’s find that mimic charm. She checked all the nooks and crevices of the tracery. Somewhere there would be a little carved artifact or some kind. Aha! There it was, wedged in that spandrel. A wooden troll, grinning over its shoulder, mooning. Very classy. She reached up. Her fingers almost brushed it when—Shit! A rap on the other side of the glass almost sent her tumbling off the ledge. Her pulse skittered. Paran. Shaking his head.
What? she mouthed.
‘It’s jinxed,’ she heard him say. ‘Leave it to me. I have plans for it.’
Booby-trapped. Should have thought of that. Probably set to bawl obscenities if you tried to move it. Maybe fitted with a cocklebur jinx as well. God, she certainly didn’t want that stuck to her hand, effing and blinding all the way to the Infirmary Charms Unit.
Well, there were books to retrieve, if nothing else. She and Loxi could divide up the list until she figured out a way of getting into the Stacks. She set off and met him coming back into the Precincts, carrying yet more volumes. His hair was hazed with fine rain. My God, he was so ridiculously gorgeous. Why the hell didn’t she fancy him?
‘Hey, Nan. I hear the Guard took you last night. What’s going on?’
Looked like he was the only person on the Mount who hadn’t got wind of her indiscretion. She was not about to fill him in. ‘Long story. Let’s get out of the rain, eh, then I’ll tell you.’
They walked to Larridy’s most famous chocolate house; made out of a gigantic wine tun, snugly housed in an archway under the Precincts’ fortifications. One hundred and thirty oak trees had been felled to make it, and the guidebooks boasted it once held 60,000 gallons of the Prince Patriarch’s wine. These days it mostly contained tourists. A waitress brought them gingered hot chocolate. Anabara recounted last night’s adventure to Loxi and gave him Butros’s message.
‘So keep quiet till he’s instructed you what to do. Don’t go confiding in Enobar. Even if he swears on his mother’s—Shit, Loxi. What have you told him?’
He blushed. ‘Nothing!’
‘I warned you, moron!’ She grabbed his shirt front and pulled him nose-to-nose. ‘And another thing! What the hell am I going to tell your mum? “Why’d you let my boy live up there with the mollies?” Eh?’
‘Tell her from me I’m seventeen. I make my own decisions. Want to hear the big secret I told Enobar?’ Woo! He was actually angry! ‘I’m sick of pretending! I hate fighting. I hate hunting. I hate the whole big macho Gull warrior thing. I want to go to university.’
‘University? Seriously? Hey, good for you.’ She let go. Smoothed his shirt for him. Paused in shock. ‘Is this silk? Did Enobar give it you? Aw, Loxi, you realise what your folks are going to think?’
‘Well, they’ve been thinking it for years, so who gives a shit?’
‘But they’ll beat you up, babe.’ She rubbed his arm. ‘Get yourself into the sparring room, eh. Get Yanni to teach you some self-defence.’
‘Tscha!’ He gave a jeering laugh. ‘Check the face out. You think I’d still be this pretty if I couldn’t look after myself?’
She pictured the other young Gulls she knew. The busted noses, chipped teeth, deformed knuckles. ‘Fair point.’
She hadn’t the hear
t to tell him. Loxi, you’re only pretty because you always run away.
A dreary afternoon trudging the streets. Book collecting wasn’t as easy as she’d thought. Snooty former students kept her waiting on their doorsteps in the rain, and her patience wore as thin as a pawnbroker’s smile.
It was getting dark. Time to call it a day. Tscha! look at that—some families already had Wolf Tide jack-o-lanterns in their windows. There’d be kids out raking the streets tonight: Knock-a-door, knock-a-door, Wolf Tide’s come. Give us a sweet or get kicked up the bum! Back in my day—Anabara caught herself. Sounding like an old Gullmother! Before she knew it she’d be chewing on liquorice twigs and wearing her legs thick-end down.
But it was true: back in her day Wolf Tide was just apples on strings, lanterns, and a trip to the river to watch the tidal bore—not this over-commercialised two day piss-up. Come tomorrow night, Larridy would be heaving with Offcomers. Pillocks in wolf masks. It was only called Wolf Tide from wofe tide, the old Galen word for the lunar high tide; but everyone was convinced it was about full moons and ancient pre-Way wolfman myths.
When she got in, Paran was sitting cross-legged in a chair by the hearth, filing his fangs with a sliver of blue whetstone. So that’s how come their teeth were pointy. Yeesh. But she was determined to be up-beat.
‘Evening! I take back what I said—those windows are incredible!’ She put down the books and sat in the other chair. ‘The scholasticus is literally weeping with joy. And, yeah, sorry about that bog scum comment.’
He paused his filing to stare. Then resumed. Rasp, rasp.
‘So, good work.’
Stare.
‘Did you talk to Butros?’
Nod.
‘And? What did he say?’ Rasp, rasp. ‘I hope you told him the truth.’
Pause. ‘Absolutely.’
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