The Sensaurum and the Lexis

by Richard Dee

  “Let him go,” ordered the voice in the distance. “Yes, Mr Langdon,” said the man holding him and the bag was removed, as were the arms.

  Jackson turned around and blinked, he was in a richly decorated drawing room, lit by many gas lamps. The walls were panelled in dark wood, there was a fine carpet on the floor, framed paintings and highly polished mahogany furniture. As well as Mrs Grimble, two men who he had never seen before were present. Alyious was beside him, had he been the one who had grabbed at him, back in the kitchen?

  Mrs Grimble stood before him. “Hello, Jackson,” she said. “I see you’ve found us then; I expect you want to know what’s going on. Let us give you a meal and then we’ll tell you.”

  An hour later, Jackson was replete for the first time that he could remember. He had been given a plate of roasted bovine, with potatoes cooked in fat rendered from anserine, cabbage, carrots and thick gravy.

  The gravy had been the best part, so rich and full of flavour that it would have made a better meal on its own than anything he usually ate. He could feel his belt tightening with each mouthful. Apple pie and custard sauce, rich with cream, had followed. He had struggled to cram it all into his protesting stomach.

  Mrs Grimble and the man referred to as Langdon watched in fascination as he ate. Alyious and the other man had departed, up the stairway. He had heard the range slide across the kitchen floor, closing that exit.

  Jackson took a sip from the glass of lemonade that had been placed by his side. He had never tasted anything so refreshing. And he was warm; actually warm. In the dormitory, he often awoke to ice in the water jugs. Relaxed and feeling drowsy, he sat back.

  “Is that better?” asked Mrs Grimble.

  “Thank you, yes,” said Jackson, remembering his manners. No doubt the reason behind the meal would shortly appear; there was sure to be a price to pay. He must stay alert for any trickery.

  “We should explain,” began the man, Langdon.

  “Hadn’t we better warn him first?” suggested Mrs Grimble. “Before we explain his new purpose?”

  Jackson was suddenly alert; warn him? What was this about a new purpose? The thought occurred that he would be forced into something against his will. He looked around for another escape but could see none.

  “Of course.” Langdon showed no emotion. “Do you know what a patriot is, Jackson?”

  “I do, sir; it’s a man who loves his country.”

  “Correct, and a traitor?”

  Jackson’s face darkened. “That would be the opposite,” he said.

  “And which are you, Jackson?”

  Jackson had the sense to realise that the rest of his life hung on his answer, not that he was in any doubt about which he was. It might be that he was not the richest person in the land, but he felt no anger over his status.

  “A patriot, sir,” he said defiantly.

  “That’s the correct answer,” Mrs Grimble said kindly. “If you had been unsure, that brisket would have been your last meal. You would never have been seen again.” The words were so at odds with her tone that it took Jackson a moment to comprehend what he had heard.

  Jackson knew a little of the workings of the state, the overseer in the workroom often discussed the news of the day with them. So he was aware that the influence of Norlandia stretched way beyond its shores, and of the continual wars that engulfed foreign parts as all major countries vied for power. It was said that enemy spies and agents were everywhere, battling to corrupt and terrorise innocent folk. Was this man such an agent, would his words be enough, or was his fealty to be further questioned, tested?

  Langdon continued, “We represent a part of the government, a part that is interested in all sorts of things, all over the world.”

  “And in this country as well,” added Mrs Grimble. “We are always looking for people to help us, to gather information, watch people and perform small tasks. We’ve been keeping an eye on you.”

  “Are you the Watchmen?” Jackson asked. The Watchmen were the law in Norlandia, they had absolute power, were uncorrupted and indefatigable. Get on their wrong side and they would never cease in their pursuit. ‘Honest as the Watch’ was a grand compliment in life.

  “Oh no,” replied Langdon. “If the Watch knew of us, they would be most unhappy. Some of the things we do would not be to their liking. Officially, we do not exist.”

  That made it sound much more exciting, a secret part of society, with intrigues and plots of importance to the common good. “Is Alyious one of your… people?” asked Jackson. The two nodded.

  “He is, that is why you never see him in the workroom. He lodges in the home but ventures out by day, sometimes by night, as required.”

  It made sense. Jackson had always thought that Alyious knew of some trick to avoid working, to find that he was allowed to go outside was a revelation; perhaps he could do the same. The bullying must be an act, if he worked for this man, on matters of importance; well, he could not be such a bad sort, could he? And he had a hand in Jackson’s new boots. His mind raced, this might be the chance he was looking for, a way to get outside, to start a new life.

  “We also test the inventions that our scientists produce,” Mrs Grimble said. “Mechanical devices and the like. Things such as your new boots.”

  Jackson looked down at his feet. The part about working outside was interesting, getting away from the orphanage sounded like fun, even testing machinery, as long as you kept your hands and feet clear of the workings. But his boots. New and well made, to be sure; but still, they were just boots.

  One of the wood panels on the far wall swung open. Alyious and the other man had returned. “Alyious you know,” said Langdon. “His companion is Mr Fairview.”

  Alyious held out his hand. “No hard feelings, Jackson,” he said.

  Hardly knowing what to make of the last few hours, Jackson shook it.

  “We’re all prepared outside. Sir Mortimer, ma’am,” Fairview spoke in the accent of a man from the wild, forbidding northern parts of the country.

  “Good. Come on then, Jackson, you’re about to find out what the boots can do. Did you feel the lump by your toe? It has a purpose.”

  Intrigued and excited, Jackson fell in with the rest as they moved outside. He prodded at the lump with his toe, but nothing happened.

  They went through the door in the panelled wall and arrived in a small courtyard, between the back of the house and the wall that encircled the orphanage. It was hidden by the shape of the building and Jackson had never guessed at its existence before now. The wall was at least fifteen feet high, of red brick with a small door set in it. Gas lamps threw dark shadows. It had stopped raining and a pale moon added to the illumination.

  Jackson gazed about. He thought that he saw movement; a figure came from the shadows and moved towards them. Jackson saw that it was a girl; in fact, it was one that he recognised. Tall and pleasantly rounded, she had long dark hair piled on her head and secured with an ornate pin, looking like two entwined swans. Jackson had often wondered how she had retained it from the lighter fingered among the females, now he was starting to understand a lot more of the hierarchy of the orphanage,

  “Jessamine Batterlee,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  She smiled. “I’m to be your accomplice, Jackson. I see you have the boots, like mine.”

  Jackson stole a glance at her feet. Peeping out from beneath her skirts were the toes of boots, highly polished like his. He had never noticed her wearing them before, and he had stolen more than a glance at her when he thought he was unnoticed. Now, she tugged at her waist and the skirts fell away. Underneath, she was clad in trousers not unlike his, except they were tighter. Jackson felt embarrassment, he had never seen a woman dressed so, never guessed at the shape that was revealed. The narrowness of her waist was emphasised by the wide black belt she wore, her hips full and shapely, the legs longer than he had supposed.

  Jessamine was obviously unconcerned with her new appearance. “Foll
ow me, Jackson,” she called, running toward the wall. Jackson was about to shout at her to be careful, it seemed that she could not stop before she dashed herself against the brick. She jumped at the vertical face, swinging her feet up to kick at the wall. Jackson fancied that he heard a click as she stuck fast, her feet three feet from the ground. Then she started to climb, moving up the wall as a babe crawls over the floor. It was as if the wall were horizontal. She swiftly reached the top and sat astride the bricks, her leg swinging.

  “Well, Jackson?” said Mrs Grimble. “Your turn. What are you waiting for?”

  Chapter 2

  Jackson looked at Mrs Grimble. “How can I do that?” he asked.

  “You climb with the boots on the brick, and you wear these on your hands.” Mrs Grimble passed Jackson a pair of fingerless gloves. “Press the palms onto the brick,” she said, “and kick the toe of your boots against the wall, you will stick.”

  Jackson reached up and placed the palm of the right glove against the wall. He tried to pull it away, it was firm. He lifted his left boot and kicked at the wall with the toe. There was a click and when he tried to pull it away, he found that it too, was stuck fast.

  “How?” he asked.

  “Does it matter?” came the swift reply from the new Mrs Grimble. “Just climb.”

  “No.” Jackson shook his head, he was becoming uncomfortable, attached to the wall as he was, by one hand and one foot, but he wanted answers.

  “Tell me how to move myself,” he demanded. “My hand and foot are stuck.”

  “This one will be trouble,” she said to no-one in particular. “I suppose it’s to your credit that you’re inquisitive. All will be explained, but now is not the time. You merely have to adjust your position so that you remove the weight, do that and your hands and feet will release.”

  Jackson tried it and found it to be true. He put his left hand on the wall, slightly higher and transferred all his weight on it. He lifted his right. It came away easily and he moved it higher and placed it against the wall again. Swinging, the hand held his weight. He tried the same with his feet. Now he had the method, he began to climb easily.

  He reached the top, slightly out of breath. Muscles unused to such exercise ached as he straddled the bricks, sitting facing Jessamine. She was grinning, her teeth white and even.

  Now that he had a chance, he inspected the gloves. He found that they had a fine web of hook-like bristles all over the palm. In one direction the surface felt silk-like and smooth, in the other, he could feel many barbs digging into his flesh. He reached down and felt the tip of his boot, it was the same.

  “It’s the same principle as the arachnid,” Jessamine explained. “It mimics their feet, ’tis how they climb walls.”

  Jackson was about to ask how she knew that; he felt swept up by events. His shoulders ached, his stomach felt like a heavy weight around his middle, there was so much that needed to be explained. Instead of asking, he simply gazed out over the city. It was a place that he had not seen once the orphanage door had shut behind him, six years before. Even though it was dark, moonlight and the lights of the city itself revealed a bustling metropolis.

  There seemed to be so much more of everything than he recalled, more lights in the houses, more factory and local chimneys belching smoke and sparks, more vehicles on the road. There were several sets of lights in the sky from flying machines. He could even see people, taking a late evening walk. If they had looked up, what would they have thought?

  Before he could speak again, Jessamine shouted. “Come on, Jackson. Race you down.”

  She swung a long leg over the wall and descended rapidly. Jackson followed and by dropping the last six feet, managed to arrive on the ground at the same time as her. He landed on bended knees, puffing from the exertion. Jessamine seemed unbothered, breathing easily, her face was not even flushed. She went to her skirt and fixed it again around her waist.

  “You need to get yourself fit, Jackson,” remarked Langdon. Jackson was unable to reply as, hands on his knees, he forced air into his lungs.

  “We’ll have to feed him up a little,” suggested Alyious. “And the training will harden him. Patching will see to that.”

  “We’ll begin in the morning,” Mrs Grimble said, “after fast-breaker. Now give me the gloves, Jackson.”

  Reluctantly Jackson handed them over. “In case you had decided to take a little excursion before we have trained you,” she said, “let me explain. You will not go outside without our permission, or alone until you are trained and have made your oath. There are two reasons; you may be captured by our enemies, or you may decide that there is the chance for you to disappear. In either case, we would have to find you, silence you. We can scarce let you go and blab all our secrets, can we?”

  She said it so seriously that Jackson realised his plan would not work without further study, he was freer than he had been but still entrapped.

  “Come on then, Jackson.” Alyious put an arm about his shoulders and led him to the shadows, a door that opened onto some steps and into the kitchen pantry. “Let’s not spoil a good day with worrying about what might never be. We’d better get some sleep,” he suggested, “before the night-watch notices that you are not in your cot.”

  Despite the change in Alyious’s status, Jackson found it hard to adjust to the idea that he was now to be his friend. He was also slightly annoyed as he realised that he hadn’t noticed Jessamine’s departure. He had wanted to wish her goodnight.

  The two boys crept into the dormitory block and parted ways. Alyious was in a different part of the building to Jackson, for which he had once been grateful. Now it seemed like a barrier between them.

  “I will get you moved,” Alyious said. “All of us who work for Langdon are together, it simplifies matters.”

  Jackson spent a sleepless night, he was part apprehensive about his new role, but at the same time excited to have a purpose. And surprised that someone had thought enough of him to offer him the chance. He clutched the boots to him, under the covers, in case they be taken. His last thought before sleep was of the curve of Jessamine’s legs in the tight trousers, the way her form changed shape as she moved.

  Chapter 3

  Next morning, he was stood in line for fast-breaker when he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Skies, one of the wardens. He knew without looking; the other boys had whispered his name as he approached. He turned, ready to obey. Skies was a sadistic man, pinch-faced and small in stature. He was ever filled with the pleasure that certain folk took from the exercise of power, often choosing pupils for a job at mealtime, depriving them of food whilst they cleaned a blocked drain or performed some other task. Today, however, Skies was smiling, or at least snarling in a less threatening way. “Come with me,” he said and, grabbing his collar in one hand, he took Jackson to the head of the line. “In future, you’re to get here half an hour before everyone else,” he added.

  “Yes, Mr Skies sir,” Jackson said.

  “This ’un needs feeding up for a job; he’s one of Sir Mortimer’s merry band,” Skies announced to the servers and Jackson found his bowl replaced with a proper plate. Instead of the thin porridge and husk of old bread that was normal, he received fried eggs and rashers of porker, fresh buttered bread and a glass of milk. “And every meal from now on, Mrs Grimble’s orders,” Skies added. The server nodded.

  A few of the other children murmured angrily. “Why him, Mr Skies?” one asked.

  Skies cuffed the nearest boy and grabbed his ear, pulling him away from the line, his bowl fell with a clatter. “Because,” he answered, “he’s got a job to do. So have you now, there’s a latrine that needs cleaning and it has your name on it.” To laughter, the boy was taken away. Skies grabbed another. “Clean that mess up,” he ordered, pointing at the spilled porridge.

  Jackson ate his food quickly, half afraid that someone might take it from him. Such special treatment could mark him out as a target for retribution. The two who had missed breakfast woul
d be after him, once they had finished the tasks set by Skies. As he wiped the plate with the last of his bread, Alyious was at his elbow.

  “Good day, Jackson,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’ll not be bullying you today, nor will any other. We have business to attend to. If you’re replete, come with me.”

  The two of them left the hall and went through a door that Jackson had never passed before. As far as he had known, it led to Mr Templestowe’s own quarters.

  “Is this not the way to Templestowe’s rooms?” Jackson asked.

  Alyious laughed. “Templestowe, you have no need to fear him. He is naught but a figurehead. Langdon is the real power here.”

  Jackson followed on, eventually coming to a room where Jessamine was sat, along with several others. They passed a room where a few of the younger children were clustered in one corner. “The young ones who show a bit of promise, as you did,” explained Alyious. “The bulk of the children here are no more than a diversion for us to hide behind.”

  He recognised some of the people sat looking at him, others he only knew of by name. There were Leopold, Mularky, Hortense, Winifred, Capricia, Vyner and Milburn. Like Alyious, the boys were never seen at the day’s work, the girls were kept away from any male contact.

  The man Fairview was stood in front of a large green board. Another man, a soldier by his bearing, stood to one side. Fairview swiftly wrote three sentences on it with a chalk. Jackson could read well enough, ‘Know your enemy’ the first one said. ‘Trust no-one outside these walls’ the second. The last one was the most poignant, ‘Leave no friend behind you, we go and return together’ it said.

  “Gentlemen, ladies.” Fairview had the ability to talk quietly yet command a room. “We welcome Jackson today; he will restore us to full complement, once he has been trained.”

  There was a round of “Welcome, Jackson,” and “Good to see you,” from the others. Jessamine smiled and gestured that he sit next to her. What did he mean, full complement? He was about to ask Jessamine when Fairview rapped on the board.