“I shall let you return to your work, Mr. Garritt. One day you will help to wrest men’s souls from the grasp of sin, but for now it is that wicked ledger upon which you must force a more holy order.”
The rector moved to the other end of the long room and there proceeded to busy himself with the usual tasks that occupied him throughout the day—these being chiefly the moving of pieces of paper from one heap to another and then, after some consideration, back again.
Eldyn returned his attention to the ledger before him. He had let himself be distracted by daydreams, and the beam of sunlight from above was moving with a perceptible speed across the table. He would have to hurry if he was to be out of receipts before the lumenal was out of hours.
A SUDDEN GALE had clotted the sky with clouds, casting a pall over the world, by the time he walked from Graychurch to the old monastery. However, the bells of St. Galmuth’s were not yet ringing, which meant the sun had not set on the lumenal.
Or rather, the sun was not yet supposed to have set. An article appearing on the front page of all the broadsheets a few days ago confirmed what had already been the subject of conversation all over the city for the half month prior. The almanacs were in error. The tables printed in them—and reprinted daily in the broadsheets—which for so long had reliably predicted the duration of lumenals and umbrals, could no longer be trusted.
The discrepancies had been small at first, such that people hardly detected them; or if they were noticed, they were ascribed to a faulty clock or a misreading of the almanac. Though minor, the variances had begun to compound. A few seconds of disparity became a minute, then several minutes, then more. So far, the greatest amount the almanacs had been in error had been not much more than a quarter of an hour. Yet the variances were only likely to increase as time went on.
According to the article he had read in The Swift Arrow, the Royal Society of Astrographers had convened to discuss the matter, and they had determined that the movements of the celestial spheres that contained the moon and the eleven planets had become altered from their previously immutable patterns. The cause of this was almost certainly the new planet, Cerephus, and its increasing proximity in the sky.
The changes had been subtle, but the heavens were large, so even the smallest deviation in their movements resulted in a significant effect. It was like a great clock in which one gear was sped up or slowed down, causing all of the other workings in the clock to change in accordance. The astrographers were laboring to calculate revised timetables, and the king had bid them to pursue the matter with all possible haste. However, they would likely have to observe the new motions of the heavens for some time—perhaps even years—before they could rework their calculations. In the meantime, there was no telling how much things might change.
This was a cause of some concern. Much commerce depended upon a reliable foreknowledge of the length of umbrals and lumenals. Even the theaters on Durrow Street would not be unaffected, for how would they know when they needed to be ready to open their doors if they did not know when evening was to fall?
Eldyn could imagine a great deal of inconvenience resulting from this unpredictability. That said, he did not see how it would cause any real harm to not know the exact length of days and nights. Perhaps it would be better if men were not so slavishly devoted to the clocks that divided their lives into sharp little slivers. Besides, if one wanted to know how the day was progressing, could one not simply look upward?
He did so now, watching the clouds roll before another gust of wind. Then he ducked into the old monastery just as a few large, cold drops of rain began to patter to the ground.
Upon entering the apartment, he found Sashie sitting by the window, reading a book in the dim gray light. She seemed not to have heard him enter, for she remained intent upon the book on her lap.
As usual, her lips moved slightly as she read. She wore a plain gray shift, and her hair was not loose as she usually wore it, but rather pulled back in a tight knot. It was not, he thought, a flattering style. No doubt she had put it up to be out of her way as she worked at some dusty task set for her by the old verger.
He shut the door behind him, and she looked up at the sound. Seeing him she smiled, and the expression imparted to her face a soft loveliness that could not be diminished by a dull dress or a harsh arrangement of her hair. Eldyn smiled at her in return.
“I’m glad to see you’re back from the church already,” he said. “It’s beginning to pelt down rain out there. If you were coming back now, you’d have gotten very soaked.”
She appeared to think about this a moment, and a slight frown creased her brow. “It can only be God’s choosing when it rains. So I could not complain if I got caught in a storm, for it would be His will.”
Eldyn resisted an urge to frown himself. Why would she ever think God would wish something ill to happen to her? “Well,” he said, making his voice cheerful, “then it’s clear, in His benevolence, that He wished you to be warm and dry today.”
Now her smile returned even brighter than before. “I suppose you must be right, dear brother. Oh, but of course you are! You are wiser than I in such matters, and will soon become far wiser still.”
Despite his misgivings, her approval could only please him. He took off his coat and laid it carefully over the back of a chair. “Did you happen to encounter Mr. Fantharp as you came in?”
She shrugged. “You mean the tallow seller? No, I did not.”
“I met him on my way out this morning, and he expressed some concern that he has not seen you of late. I assured him you were very well, and that he must have simply missed your comings and goings. As you know, he is a busy man, for he does very well in his trade. It was kind of him to ask after you, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so.” Sashie opened the book on her lap and continued to read.
Eldyn’s compulsion to frown returned. He had done everything he could to encourage Sashie to take an interest in Mr. Fantharp’s attentions, but so far to no avail.
He moved across the room to her. “Are you reading from the Testament again? You have been very diligent with your study of it lately.”
“Far less than you, I am sure!” she exclaimed. “I fear I must read things several times before I begin to comprehend them even the littlest bit. But I am a woman, and so must work harder at such things, as Father Prestus reminds me. I am sure understanding comes far more easily to you, brother.”
He merely nodded. In truth, he had been too busy to read much of the Testament of late. But he would.
As for Sashie, lately he had begun to think that she was perhaps reading too much of the old book. Some of the words written by the ancient prophets could be alarming in tone, especially to an impressionable young mind that might tend to interpret them too literally. Was it this Father Prestus who was encouraging her to make such a study of it? Eldyn kept meaning to find the priest and speak to him, but given all his duties both day and night, he so far had not had the chance.
Well, he would do so soon. And tomorrow, if time allowed, he would go to a bookshop and find something more frivolous for Sashie to read. He could only think it would be good for her spirits to look at something lighter in tone—the latest romance, perhaps.
For now, she seemed intent to keep reading from the Testament, and as the last of the daylight would soon fail, he did not make an issue of it. Besides, he was too tired to strike up an argument. He could bring up the matter of Mr. Fantharp later. Perhaps he would suggest inviting their neighbor to attend the next Brightday service with them. Surely his sister could find no objection with that idea, and he was sure Mr. Fantharp would readily agree. No doubt being close to each other at the church would lead them to a natural and engaging discussion on the topic of the day’s sermon, and thus help to acquaint them with each other.
Pleased with this scheme, he sat at the table, intending to pour himself a small cup of wine to ease the aches in his hand and shoulder. As he did, he saw that a note had c
ome for him. Immediately he recognized the handwriting on the front as belonging to Rafferdy.
Last month, Eldyn feared he had angered his friend. It wasn’t until the day after he had gone to the Theater of the Moon to accept Madame Richelour’s offer that he recalled he was supposed to have met Rafferdy at the Sword and Leaf the evening prior. In the excitement of his encounter with the archdeacon, the engagement had gone right out of his head. However, that was no excuse; he should not have shown his friend such disregard. The next day, he had sent a long note to Rafferdy that, while not going into the particulars, apologized profusely for failing to show up for their appointment.
Several days passed, and Eldyn had begun to fear his friend was indeed perturbed with him, perhaps irrevocably. At last a reply from Rafferdy had arrived. It had been brief, and by its appearance hastily written, but it had assured him not to worry, that he was in no way insulted or annoyed. Eldyn had been greatly relieved.
Since then, Eldyn had exchanged several notes with Rafferdy, but so far they had not managed to find a time to reschedule their engagement. Eldyn’s duties by day and night consumed nearly all of his hours, and Rafferdy was occupied with attending Assembly and taking care of his father’s business. Yet hopefully they would find a time soon when they could meet. Eldyn missed his friend’s amiable chatter; and now that he thought about it, it had been some time since Rafferdy’s last message. Eager to see his friend’s latest proposal, Eldyn broke the seal and opened the note.
His hopes faded with the last of the daylight outside the window. No, it was not possible Rafferdy would have time for drinks at tavern and frivolous talk anytime soon. His responsibilities would now be greater than ever. His father, Lord Rafferdy, had passed from this world.
It had happened earlier that month, after a sudden and precipitous decline in the state of his health. Now Rafferdy had returned from Asterlane, where he had been setting his father’s affairs in order. There was still much to do, and Assembly remained in session. However, he hoped to be able to see Eldyn at some point, and would write again when he had time.
Gold light pushed back the gloom. Eldyn looked up as Sashie set a candle upon the table.
“You look very solemn, dear brother. Is something amiss?”
He folded the note and set it aside. He would write a reply to Rafferdy tomorrow. In the meantime, there was no reason to burden his sister with ill news about a person she had never met.
“No, nothing is wrong, dearest. I was just giving my eyes a bit of a rest, that’s all.”
“I am sure you are weary from all your work, dear brother. You deserve a reward for your labors. I will set out supper for you.”
While he had not told Sashie the whole truth, neither had his words been a lie. His eyes were indeed tired from peering at the ledger all day. He sat in his chair and rested while Sashie set out a cold pork roast, a loaf and butter, and an apple tart. When she was done, they took their meal in warm light conjured by several beeswax tapers.
To burn multiple candles should have been an unattainable luxury, what with their price of late. However, Mr. Fantharp had given them several boxes, and so they had a good supply. Eldyn made sure to remark how kind it had been of their neighbor to give them all of the candles, and how Mr. Fantharp must be doing very well these days, given the preciousness of tallow. Sashie only smiled as she ate a large slice of tart.
By then it was very dark, and no matter what the almanac said, Eldyn was certain it was time to head to the theater. But after she cleared away the supper dishes, Sashie seemed intent on reading more of the Testament by candlelight. Eldyn occupied himself by brushing his two coats and polishing his good pair of boots, all the while trying not to keep glancing at the candles to see how far they had burned.
At last his sister closed her book and rose from her chair. She kissed his cheek, then retired to her room. Eldyn waited for the click of the latch, then he leaped into action. He put on his newly polished boots, donned his good coat, and examined the state of his hair in the mirror. With that he was out the door, locking it behind him.
Once outside, he walked briskly through the crooked lanes of the Old City. The storm had passed, and the stars were out, their light reflecting on the still-wet cobbles. He considered the idea of hiring a hack cab. It was not to be a rehearsal tonight, but rather a full performance, and he would be expected to arrive well before the curtain rose to help the actors into costume.
As usual, now that he wanted for a cab there was not one in sight. Besides, if he was to save for his and Sashie’s futures, he must conserve his funds. Thus he redoubled his pace, drawing the shadows in close around him as he went, to be sure he was not delayed by any unsavory persons who might otherwise be tempted to accost him.
Turning onto the east end of Durrow Street, Eldyn saw that the theaters were just opening their doors. This sight relieved him, for that meant it was yet half an hour before curtain rise. He went around behind the Theater of the Moon and passed through the rear entrance.
He had hardly taken three steps before Dercy was upon him.
“There you are!” he said, seizing Eldyn’s arm. He was not yet in costume, but his face and short blond beard were already painted silver.
Eldyn raised an eyebrow. “And good evening to you, too, Dercy.”
The other young man shook his head. “Where have you been? Master Tallyroth is clucking about like a hen who can’t find all of its chicks. We were about to send someone to your home to fetch you.”
Eldyn’s good humor wavered as he suffered a pang of dread. What would Sashie think if an illusionist were to show up at the door of their apartment?
“You could have no cause to do such a thing!” he said. “I am sure I am not late. The doors of the theater just opened. There is plenty of time to help everyone into their costumes.”
“What of Riethe’s costume? Surely there are alterations to make. Riethe is a whole head taller than you are and half again as broad! It will take more pins than I can count, I fear. We will have to hope it holds.”
Now it was no longer dread Eldyn suffered from, but rather confusion. The usual pandemonium that preceded a performance was not helping him clear his thoughts. Actors were laughing and talking excitedly as they put on their face paints, while stagehands dashed about, working cables and pulleys and levers as they put all the set pieces in place.
“What are you talking about?” Eldyn said. “Why would Riethe’s costume need alterations?”
“Because he won’t be in it. You will.”
It felt as if one of the bags of sand that counterweighed the curtain had dropped from its pulley and struck Eldyn on the head.
“Where is Riethe?”
“Over there, the damnable idiot. He got into a brawl today with some fool in a tavern. I gather the fellow said a few stupid things about Siltheri. As if we care what some stinking lout thinks of us! He should have just left it. But you know Riethe, he never can.”
Eldyn did know Riethe. He was a strapping young man with a fiery temper who did not take kindly to epithets being hurled against illusionists. This was not the first tavern fight he had gotten in, and Master Tallyroth had warned him that if he did not cease such activities, he might lose his place at the theater.
“What happened?” Eldyn said.
“Well, Riethe broke the man’s nose, but it was the fellow’s friends he hadn’t considered. They heaved him out the tavern door, and when he landed on the cobbles it was his own hand that got smashed. He’ll be lucky if it heals well enough so he’s not a cripple. Regardless, there’s no way he can go on tonight. Which means you’re going to perform in his stead.”
Eldyn put a hand to his head, making sure a sandbag indeed had not struck him. “Me? You mean perform onstage?”
“Where else would you perform? In a closet? Under a stone? Of course I mean onstage!”
Eldyn felt a tremor pass through him. He had known this day would come, but he had hoped it would be a little while longer. The
re was so much more he had to learn.
Dercy’s silver face waxed into a broad grin. “Come now, Eldyn Garritt, don’t you worry. I’ve seen what you can do. We all have. You’ll be brilliant, I know it. You couldn’t be anything else.”
As if Dercy were indeed the moon, a silver light surrounded Eldyn. Bathed in that radiant glow, he could only smile in return. Did not some claim the light of the moon induced madness? So it seemed to him, for fear gave way to an intoxicating anticipation. Power seemed to shimmer on the air, and his fingers tingled, as if wonders were ready to burst from them.
Eldyn squeezed Dercy’s arm. “Thank you,” he said. “For always being so sure of me.”
Dercy let out a rich laugh. “Don’t thank me. Thank Riethe and his fool’s temper. Now come on, we have but a quarter hour to make you into a comet.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
IN THE PAST, after a visit to Asterlane, Rafferdy had always been greatly relieved to return to his house on Warwent Square. From the moment he left the house of his father, the coach could never travel the roads fast enough, and the distance behind it was never great enough to satisfy his craving for flight. Not for a moment, during all the hours as the countryside passed outside the window of the coach, would he know any tranquillity or comfort. Not until he was back in the city, amid all his usual surroundings, would he at last allow himself to draw a breath, exhale it, and believe that he had once again made his escape.
“May I take your hat and cane, Lord Rafferdy?”
Rafferdy recoiled a little. He was not yet accustomed to those words being spoken to him.
“Yes, thank you,” he managed to say, handing the objects to his man. “And I’ll have a brandy. Make it a generous pour.”
The House on Durrow Street Page 37
