The House on Durrow Street

by Galen Beckett

  “Your good sense will guide you. Besides, you need not worry. If we do not see a scene today that meets your approval, then we will simply go again tomorrow and the next day.”

  The young woman who had knocked on Ivy’s chamber door earlier arrived just then with her hat and parasol. As Ivy took them, she cast a glance over her shoulder, wondering if she shouldn’t go back to her chamber upstairs and attend to the tasks she had planned. Only then the viscountess led her out into the day. In that brilliant light, all worries fled like shadows from the sun. By the time the carriage started into motion, Ivy was laughing, all thoughts of writing letters and sorting receipts gone from her mind.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  IS SOMETHING AMISS, sweet brother?”

  Eldyn looked up from the table in the apartment. Dawn had only just come, but he was already tallying figures in the church ledger. It was his purpose to make a good start on his work, for the lumenal was to be brief, and he wanted to be sure he would have time to speak to the rector.

  “And why do you think something is wrong?”

  “Because you look awfully serious.”

  Eldyn set down his pen. “Do not worry, dearest. I am very well.”

  He meant it. Today he would ask the rector what he needed to do to apply to the priesthood. He glanced at yesterday’s broadsheet on the table; however, the words on the page did not rearrange themselves to form a new image. Instead, they kept their places, describing grim happenings in stark black and white. Riots in the Outlands, brigands on the roads, rumors of an army massing across the sea.

  He pushed the broadsheet aside; worldly matters meant nothing to him now. A year ago, he had believed it was wealth that would redeem him, that if he could find a way to earn back the Garritt family fortune, he would at last be free of his father’s shadow. He knew now how foolish that notion had been. For his father had always been obsessed with finding ways to reclaim the money he had squandered. And the only way Eldyn was ever going to free himself of that tainted legacy was to be something that Vandimeer Garritt never wanted his son to be—something he could never have been himself.

  Sashie gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he smiled as he picked up his pen again. Soon both of their futures would be assured.

  After a while he put away his work. He and Sashie took their breakfast, then she walked with him to the steps of Graychurch. She had told the verger she would mend any old altar coverings that might still have a use if given some attention. This surprised Eldyn, for he had never known her to have the ability to sew, but he said only that this seemed a pleasant task.

  “It matters not if I find it pleasant,” Sashie said. “Only that it pleases Him.” She cast her eyes upward.

  “Yet I hope you do not find it too bothersome,” he said. “I am sure the verger doesn’t want you to prick your fingers.”

  “If I spill a bit of blood, why should I regret it? Father Prestus says that a bit of blood given in the service of God is a thing that does not go unnoticed or unrewarded in Eternum.”

  Eldyn frowned. While at first he had found Sashie’s fascination with the Church both understandable and charming, of late he was beginning to grow confounded with her behavior. It was time for his sister to start thinking about practical matters. She was still dressing in the most drab fashion, and she had yet to say two kind words to Mr. Fantharp. Eldyn was beginning to think it might be time he had a talk with this Father Prestus.

  Then they passed through the doors of the church, and within the sanctuary of that vaulted space, his annoyance necessarily receded. Despite the brilliance of the morning outside, the smoke of candles made the air dim and rich within. Whispered voices murmured all around.

  In a way, Eldyn was reminded of the theater in the moment before the curtain rose, when all the chatter and laughter ceased and the audience fell to a hush, anticipating what was to come. However, it was a different sort of pageantry that would be performed here, one not crafted from illusions. The power of God was not some glamour that faded when the play was over; it was an abiding and ever-present force.

  Eldyn started to bid Sashie good-bye for the day, only at that moment he saw the rector hurrying toward them, huffing as he went.

  “Good day, Mr. Garritt,” he said. “And to you, Miss Garritt.”

  Eldyn suffered a pang of worry. “Good day, Father Gadby. Were you looking for me? I did not think I was late.”

  “No, Mr. Garritt. You are punctual as always. I am here for another reason.” He affected an expression at once solemn and pleased. “I have heard that he will be arriving here at any moment.”

  For the weight he gave the word, one might have thought the rector was speaking of He who watched from above.

  “Word just came from St. Galmuth’s to expect the archdeacon,” the rector went on, his voice rather high.

  Now Eldyn understood Father Gadby’s state of agitation. He started to reply, but at that moment the holy gloom of the old church was dispelled as the doors opened and the new light of morning flooded in. A figure all in red strode through, followed by a number of priests in white robes.

  For all his months working at Graychurch, Eldyn had never seen the archdeacon; yet there was no mistaking that it was he who moved toward them now. Lemarck was younger than Eldyn would have guessed—no more than forty by his look—and his crimson cassock could not disguise a vigorous frame. He was tall and not unhandsome, but it was not his face that made him remarkable; rather it was his eyes. Once, when they still dwelled at the house at Bramberly, Eldyn had looked out the window after a particularly long and cold umbral, and he had seen shards of ice hanging from the eaves that were that clear, and that blue.

  Eldyn expected the archdeacon to stride past them, trailing his retinue of white-frocked priests like a streamer of sparks following a crimson comet, only he paused to greet the rector. Then he turned, and that brilliant gaze fell upon Sashie and Eldyn.

  Eldyn would have thought so piercing a look could only induce pain; instead, a warmness came over him, and for a moment he was encapsulated in a golden light. Sashie bowed her head, her cheeks coloring in that amber glow. Eldyn supposed the light of morning had touched the stained-glass windows above, but he could not lift his eyes to look; he could gaze only at the tall, imposing man before them.

  The archdeacon inquired who these two beings were, and Father Gadby gave their names.

  “So this is the fine young Mr. Garritt who is working miracles with our ledgers!” The archdeacon’s voice was rich and clear, no doubt from the practice of many sermons. “You have done us a great service.”

  Eldyn could not have been more in awe if one of the marble saints had climbed down off his pedestal to bid him good day. “It is nothing remarkable what I do,” he said, at once horrified and deeply pleased. “Your eminence,” he added, unsure how one addressed an archdeacon.

  “On the contrary, Mr. Garritt, our books were previously a daemon’s playground. Father Gadby informs me that you have banished the devils and brought a most holy order to the ledgers.” He smiled at Sashie, an expression like a flash of sun through dark clouds. “And this can only be Miss Garritt, who has so charitably aided our good verger.”

  “But, you … you know us?” she said, her blue eyes wide.

  “The archdeacon is aware of all that happens in his church, Miss Garritt,” the rector declaimed.

  “It is not my church, Father Gadby. I merely keep it for others who are better and wiser than me.”

  That anyone could be better or wiser than this man was something Eldyn could not believe. He opened his mouth, wishing he had something to say to such a grand being. He could think of nothing. The priests standing behind the archdeacon fluttered like a flock of pigeons restless to fly.

  “Well, there is much work for both of us to do,” Lemarck said. “This world will never be perfect, but it is our task to bring it as close to perfection as we may. I am grateful God sent you to be our clerk, Mr. Garritt, but now I have my own, differe
nt sorts of ledgers I must go balance. Do come with us if you would, Father Gadby.”

  The archdeacon started to turn away, only at that moment a compulsion seized Eldyn. Without meaning to—or rather, as if he had no control over his tongue—he found himself speaking in a loud voice.

  “I would be more than a clerk, sir. I would be a cleric in God’s service!”

  The archdeacon turned around. The rector and the priests stared at him. Sashie gasped, her eyes shining.

  It was the rector who spoke first, his hands flitting about like a pair of overfed starlings. “That is a commendable sentiment, Mr. Garritt. I can see you have been moved by your service to the Church to give even more of yourself. Yet you must know that you are needed where you are.”

  Eldyn’s cheeks felt hot. His wits and his words were his own again, but there was no point in retracting what he had uttered—or rather, what had been uttered through him by some unknown power—for it was true.

  “I know, and I am grateful, Father. But I want to offer an even greater service—that is, to give my very being to the Church.”

  He cast a nervous look at Sashie and was steadied by her beatific smile.

  “Well, this is unusual, Mr. Garritt,” Father Gadby said, jowls waggling. “A young man typically comes to us upon the recommendation of a priest who knows him well and chooses to sponsor him. Then there is the matter of the portion that must be paid. It is a rather … that is, it is not inconsiderable. Then again, these things hardly matter, as you are too old to enter the priesthood, Mr. Garritt. Far too old!”

  Eldyn stared, unable to speak, or hardly even to breathe. In an instant, all his hopes of leaving behind the sorrows and sins of the past, and of finding a bright future for himself and Sashie, vanished. It seemed a tall, brutish figure stood behind the rector, a sneer on his bearded face. However, it was not the specter of Vandimeer Garritt lurking there; it was only a statue of St. Marbeck the Hermit, half in shadow.

  The rector nodded to him. “Now, if you’ll permit us, Mr. Garritt, we have a great deal of business to attend to. I know you do as well.”

  Eldyn shrank back. It was all he could do to resist the instinct to throw the shadows around himself and run away through the church. Even so, the dimness thickened about him a bit, and he had to will away the gloom to keep it from coalescing around him.

  “Forgive me,” he murmured. “I only thought …”

  He could manage no more, and he groped numbly for Sashie’s hand to lead her away.

  “Wait a moment,” Lemarck said.

  Did the archdeacon intend to further chastise him for his impertinence? Eldyn hardly required any further mortification! However, he could not disobey a command from that voice. He looked up at the taller man.

  “Tell me, Mr. Garritt, why is it you wish to become a priest?”

  Eldyn’s instinct was to say nothing, or to profess that it had been a foolish whimsy. Only again a gold light fell upon him, and its warmth steadied him. Besides, how could speaking damn him any further?

  He drew a breath. “I have not lived a perfect life, your eminence. I am … that is, I have often been lost in darkness. Much of that has been my own doing, I confess, and some has been due to the circumstances to which I was born.”

  His voice grew stronger as he spoke. He was aware of many eyes on him, but he kept his gaze on the face of an angel carved upon a nearby column.

  “When I was young, my father would often take me along with him on his business dealings. I had little understanding of what he did, save that I knew the men he met with were cruel, brutish, and sometimes murderous. I did not question my father, or ask him why he did not do something else for a living. You see, as grim and violent and wretched as that world we dwelled in was, it was the only world I knew. Except then …”

  The memory came upon him, almost as strong as if he was living it again.

  “One day, on his way to one of these meetings, he left me at the steps before a building and told me to wait. I did not know what the building was that my father had left me outside. He had never taken me to such a place. I waited for him as I was told.

  “Only then I heard the tolling of bells and the murmur of voices. I was drawn by these things and went up the steps to peer through the doors. Within I saw such things as I had never before imagined—such wondrous things! I saw a place of order and peace, and I saw men acting gently and benevolently. It was a church, of course. Only I didn’t know that, for I had never seen such a thing before. I didn’t know there could be a different world than the one I had been raised in, a world filled not with money and blood and anger, but with music and beauty and light.

  “After that day, whenever I could steal away by myself, I would go to the entrance of a church. I would never venture inside, but I would watch through the doors as the priests performed their mysteries, and I would breathe in the scent of candles that came through the door. It was the knowledge that such a world existed, even if I could not enter it myself, that helped me to endure in the world in which I lived.”

  Eldyn heard murmurs go among the priests who stood behind the archdeacon. What was he thinking, to speak like this to such important men? He felt suddenly small and naked beneath the ponderous vaults of the church.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Please, forgive me.” He turned away.

  A strong, gentle hand on his arm halted him. “No, you should not be sorry, Mr. Garritt. Rather, you do us all a great service to remind us of what we can sometimes forget in the busy course of our daily work. There is a darkness, one that we must ever do battle with—one that even now seeks to undo all of the good of God’s work in the world. And in this battle, we need every warrior we can find on the side of the light.” The archdeacon smiled down at Eldyn. “No matter at what particular age they come to us.”

  It took Eldyn a moment to realize what had just happened. The rector’s eyebrows rose up, and his hands gave a flutter, but he did not look displeased. On the contrary, delight shone on his round face. Eldyn glanced to his side and saw Sashie gazing at him with a look of such admiration that he felt his heart swell in his chest.

  If there was any doubt yet remaining in his mind, it was erased as Archdeacon Lemarck exchanged brief words with Father Gadby. The rector would see that Eldyn’s petition to enter the priesthood was submitted, and the archdeacon himself would be considered his sponsor. There were only some small details to sort out. Eldyn must work with the priests at Graychurch to achieve a basic understanding of the Testament before he could formally enter the priesthood. There was also the matter of the portion that must be granted to the Church upon his entry.

  The Church maintained many ancient traditions, and the granting of a sum when a man entered the priesthood was such a custom; it was a symbol of his willingness to give up worldly things. Nor could the amount be waived for some and not for others, the archdeacon explained. That would not be just, as he was sure Eldyn certainly understood.

  However, there were some funds set aside for such instances when a worthy man came from modest circumstances. Thus, the archdeacon said, the portion in Eldyn’s case would be halved from the usual.

  “I must depart now,” Lemarck said. “Father Gadby, will you remain a moment with Mr. Garritt and make sure his questions are answered? You can meet us in the chapter house when you are done.”

  The archdeacon nodded to Sashie. “Good day, Miss Garritt. And, Mr. Garritt, I am sure I will see you again. Until then, remember that though the world in which you have dwelled has been filled with darkness and fraught with imperfections, that does not matter here. What you have done before you enter the Church is of no importance. For when you become a priest, it is as if you are a babe again, born anew into the world. Let that thought be a comfort to you as you await your entry into the Church.”

  With that the archdeacon left them, moving into the dimness of the nave like a crimson firebrand passing through the night, and the white-robed priests followed in his wake like pale e
mbers.

  “Well, a great honor has been granted to you, Mr. Garritt!” the rector said after a moment of silence. “I should be quite astounded by it all, save that nothing that he does astounds me anymore. That he is the savior of our Church, I am certain. And that he sees you as part of his plan I am certain as well, for he does nothing by chance.”

  Eldyn could only concede this was indeed astonishing. For the first time in his life a door had not been shut to him because of his past or circumstance; rather it had been opened, and soon he would step through.

  Even as elation rose in him, it was weighed with concern. “Father Gadby, if you don’t mind me asking, what is the usual portion that must be granted upon entry into the priesthood?”

  “Well, it is usually a thousand regals. But it your case it will merely be five hundred, Mr. Garritt.” He gave a reassuring smile. “I know that might seem a considerable sum, but with your diligence—and the matter of your age no longer a factor—I’m sure you will have it soon enough.”

  Eldyn nodded, but inwardly he cringed. Five hundred regals! Even halved, the portion was a greater sum than he had expected; all his prior calculations were awry. At his rate of earnings, it would be years before he could save enough for Sashie’s portion and his own.

  “Well, as you heard the archdeacon say, there is much work for us to do,” Father Gadby said. “I will see you presently, Mr. Garritt. Good day, Miss Garritt.”

  “Oh, dear brother!” Sashie exclaimed when they were alone. “I always knew it was your wish to occupy yourself with good works, but I had no idea your intentions were of the very highest kind. There could be no better occupation than to give yourself to God’s service, nor anything you could do that would make me love or admire you more!”

  She threw her arms around him, plying him with kisses and words of praise. At last she took her leave, for the verger would be expecting her, and she moved away through the church.

  Alone, Eldyn again looked at the serene angel upon the column nearby. As a child he had stood outside at the church of St. Andelthy, looking at the statue of the martyred saint beyond the iron fence, wishing he could know that same holy peace. Now he could finally have the chance—