The Keep

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 18Momentarily disorientated, Badr half rose from his chair, though he saw immediately that he would not be able to prevent any of the ladders either colliding into one another or into their end stops. He dropped back into his chair heavily and involuntarily tensed himself against the pending collisions, noticing as he did so that he was gripping the edge of the table. But no collisions came — or none of any damaging magnitude at least. As the ladders drew closer, so they slowed and gently came to a halt together. Badr felt his hands releasing the table. Carefully, he stood up.

What the devil had just happened? An earth tremor? Surely not. They were things that happened in other countries, not here. And he had not heard any rumbling nor felt any shaking. Nor were there any other signs of such an event — no books dislodged from the shelves, no chairs tumbled over. Yet something must have set the ladders in motion. And too, something must have slowed them.

He walked over to one and pushed it gently. It moved as had the one he touched when he entered the book room — smoothly, effortlessly. Crouching down, he looked to see if there was any braking device to prevent accidental collisions, but there was nothing. Simple, elegant and, he noted, very well made, the ladders were just metal frames on wheels running on rails set into the floor.

“Everything all right?”

Badr almost tumbled over.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Badr found himself looking up at an advancing Qualto waving his arms in frantic apology. “I didn’t mean to startle you...” He reached out needlessly to help Badr to his feet. “I thought you’d heard me coming in.”

Badr made a reassuring gesture. “I was just looking at this.” He patted the ladder but for some reason he felt reluctant to touch on what had just happened.

“Nicely made. Did you want me?”

“No... I... we... Henk... thought you shouted.” Qualto looked decidedly uncomfortable.

Badr shook his head and, to change the subject, indicated the book on the table. “I’ve just deciphered your storage system. I was trying to find something out about this place.”

Qualto’s manner became apologetic again. “I must admit I didn’t hear anything. But Henk was very insistent.” He glanced at the book. “I’m afraid all you’ll find is the same tales over and over. Wouldn’t like to say where they’ve all come from but there’s precious little either original or informative.”

“You’ve read them all?” Despite himself, Badr could not keep the challenge from his voice.

Qualto either did not hear it or chose to ignore it.

“Quite a few. I like reading. And sometimes there’s not much to do here.” He pursed his lips pensively and like a moon drawn inexorably to its planet, returned to his original purpose. “Henk swore he heard you shouting.”

Badr was drawn after him. He asked the hovering question.

“Did anything... strange just happen?”

“Strange?”

Badr continued on his trajectory. He shrugged. “I was looking through that book and I nodded off. Then, all of a sudden, I was awake and...” He hesitated. “The ladders were moving... running along their rails... all of them.”

“Moving?” Qualto echoed, gesticulating vaguely.

Badr pushed the ladder by way of demonstration and watched it as it slid off silently.

“All of them,” he confirmed.

Qualto watched the ladder roll to a halt then looked at Badr.

“You were dreaming, perhaps?” he offered, after a moment.

Badr was definite. He spoke as to an old and trusted friend. “No. I was awake — wide awake.” Then he voiced the thought as it came to him, as much to himself as to Qualto. “Almost as though something dangerous was going to happen.”

Qualto opted for humour. “You must have been dreaming. There’s nothing dangerous here.” His arm encompassed the silent shelves by way of demonstrating their harmlessness. “Except knowledge, of course,” he chuckled. “Following Henk into the bowels of the Keep now, that’s a different matter.” The chuckle became an uneasy laugh.

Badr joined him, self-deprecatingly. Qualto was being perfectly reasonable. There could be no danger here and there was certainly nothing that he could see that would move the ladders. Yet, he hadn’t been dreaming, he knew. He had woken, clear-eyed and clear-headed — very alert. The ladders had been moving — all of them.

The word “danger” hung in his mind, reluctant to leave.

“Are you sure nothing happened?” he pressed, apologetically. “No shaking... tremors... do you get avalanches — rock falls — anything?”

“Rarely,” Qualto conceded. “And I’ve never felt one shake the Keep. This place is very solid. Sometimes when I look at it from the outside it looks as though it’s so heavy it’d crush the mountain itself.” He nodded as if to mark the end of this diversion and returned to Badr’s concerns. “Henk was fiddling with the fire again, the way he does — he can never leave it alone — always has to... anyway, it flared up.” He waved his arms. “Gave him a bit of a shock, I think.” He chuckled to himself. “Then he c***s his head on one side and says ‘the surveyor’s calling’.”

“The surveyor’s calling?” Badr queried.

Qualto paused and reflected for a moment. “I didn’t give it a thought, now you mention it. I just presumed he meant you. It could hardly be Mr Josyff, could it?”

“Well, it wasn’t me.”

Badr smiled. The strangeness of the past few minutes had faded, to be followed by at least a semblance of a rational explanation. The fire flaring indicated a draught from somewhere. Possibly the wind outside had picked up and, buffeting around the Keep’s eaves and ridges, had reached in through whatever ventilated the book room to disturb the ladders. They were very light to move.

It was far from being a wholly convincing argument but...

“Still, no harm done. You’ve probably spared me an uncomfortable awakening in the middle of the night — sprawled across that table.” He stretched and motioned Qualto towards the door. “That said, I think I’ll go to bed — it’s been a long day.”

“Do you want to take the book with you?” Qualto asked.

Badr shook his head. “I’ll come back tomorrow and have a good root around. There were plans and sketches in that, and there may be others. They could be helpful. I might be able work out how best to set about this job before the surveyor gets back. That’ll be useful.”

As Badr was closing the door, the book room lights blinked out, and he felt a momentary return of his unease as he watched the narrow strip of light in the door frame darken, dwindle and vanish.

“What’s happened?”

Henk’s voice banished the feeling. His stooping form was craning towards Badr like a watchful fishing bird, as he came along the passage.

“Nothing, thanks, Henk,” Badr replied.

“I came as soon as I quietened the fire.”

“I’m fine,” Badr assured him. “I didn’t call out. I think you must have misheard something. Gust of wind in the chimney flues probably — it was enough to move the ladders in the book room and wake me up. It’s probably blowing quite hard outside.”

He spilled out his reasoning quickly as if unwilling to consider it further, but Henk did not let it by. His forehead wrinkled.

“Ladders moving? Wind?” His voice was a mixture of scorn and concern. He looked to Qualto, but his colleague was in no mood to pursue the matter.

“I’m going to wash the dishes and get to bed. I’ve had enough mysteries for one day — not to mention exercise!”

Badr intercepted the pending interrogation written across Henk’s face. “Well, whatever it was, I’m sure there’s a sensible explanation somewhere — as there will be for your mysterious passageway once we get round to looking for it. In fact, just a night’s sleep will probably work wonders.”

He then engineered a quick flurry of good night’s and the trio parted.

Not for long however. Badr had gone scarcely twenty paces when he felt a cold draught on his face. It must have brought with it some subtle perfume, for he found himself returned vividly to the deep doorway through which Henk had led them on his strange exploration. And too, faintly, there was the hint of sound carried on it.

“Listen!” Henk’s voice rolled over it briefly but it emerged again as both Badr and Qualto stopped and turned.

It seemed to Badr that the sound was striving to be coherent, but it was echoing and distant and flitted away from his examination like a vague shadow in the corner of the eye.

And then it was gone, and with it the chilling draught.

Badr had to take a small step forward to catch his balance as, craning after the sound, he had closed his eyes and leaned forward. The lights in the passage seemed unnaturally bright.

“The main door must be open,” Qualto said hastily. “I could’ve sworn I shut it. I’ll go and check.”

“It is shut,” Henk said. “That wasn’t from the outside.”

“I’ll check!” Qualto’s slightly irritable tone chimed with Badr’s thinking. Neither of them had any desire to be drawn further into Henk’s peculiar mood.

Hope of this vanished almost as soon as they reached the door, however, for it was indeed closed. Worse, it was bolted.

Qualto stretched up on his toes and tapped the handle of the top bolt, though as much to reassure himself he was seeing what he was seeing as to draw it, Badr thought. This time it was he who ventured into humour.

“It’s having us staying with you,” he said, affecting a lightness he did not really feel. “We’ve infected you with our city habits.”

Qualto did not reply but continued staring at the bolt handle.

“I didn’t bolt it,” he said. “Definitely didn’t bolt it.” He turned to Badr, his face fretful. “No one ever bolts doors here.”

Badr had little to offer. “Perhaps you did it without thinking. There has been quite an upheaval to your normal lives recently — us arriving — the surveyor hurting himself — the fuss about the equipment — and now him and Nyk leaving and the snow coming...”

But Qualto was shaking his head. “No. I didn’t bolt it. Look, I can barely reach it. I certainly wouldn’t throw it without thinking about it.”

Badr could do little but share his bewilderment.

“Just another little mystery to sleep on,” he said, before quickly becoming practical. “Can I help you with that?”

“Yes please.” Qualto was putting some unsuccessful effort into drawing the bolt. “That’s odd. We mightn’t use these things, but Nyk does keep them clean and oiled.” He relinquished the handle to Badr.

A little taller and quite a lot stronger than Qualto, Badr took a firm grip and pulled. For a moment, the bolt did not move, though its resistance gave Badr the impression that he was contending not with a rusted or ill-fitting bolt but with a contrary will. When finally it yielded, there was no jarring jerk or scrape of protest, but the effort opposing Badr persisted until the bolt was completely clear of its housing. As it finally dropped free, a pounding on the door made him jump. Qualto moved back rapidly, his face alarmed. Before either could speak, muffled voices made their way through the knocking. Without thinking, Badr drew the lower bolt quickly and dragged the door open.