The Keep

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 22The cry came from the passage outside. It was not loud but it was distinct and it was full of fear.

Esyal stiffened and drew in a sharp breath. Adroyan, by contrast, turned his head slightly and raised his hand a little as if demanding silence.

“You heard that,” he said, without looking at her.

Despite her immediate alarm, Esyal was oddly heartened by the hints of both sarcasm and reproach in his voice. They gave him an unexpected humanity.

“Yes,” she said simply, disarming both. But even as she was speaking she was snatching a large knife from a serried rank of Qualto’s edges and points that glittered in a nearby rack. She moved past Adroyan to the door. As she did so, Adroyan seemed to wake as if from a reverie. He seized her arm. Instinctively, Esyal transferred the knife to her unhindered hand. Equally instinctively she made no attempt to struggle free from the grip, but turned on her captor.

“Let go!” she demanded before he could speak.

“Where are you going... with that?” Adroyan nodded towards the knife.

“Let go,” Esyal said with great deliberation, her voice and her gaze menacing.

Adroyan’s black eyes stared at her intently for a moment, then his grip slipped away.

“Where are you going with that?” he repeated, though his voice now was that merely of a concerned friend.

Esyal cursed herself inwardly. Her time with the Rhanen had given her fighting reflexes that were not those of an ordinary young woman. She had been too quick to seize the knife, and shifting it to her free hand and effectively threatening Adroyan had said a lot about her. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed, or, at least, understood what her actions implied, but it had not been wise.

Should she apologize — try to make excuses?

No. That would merely draw attention to something that might indeed not have been noticed.

The cry came again. Though wordless, its appeal for help was unmistakeable.

For a moment, Esyal hesitated. Her confrontation with Adroyan had broken the momentum of her initial response and she found herself asking Adroyan’s question — where was she going?

She had no good answer. In a strange place far from anywhere and surrounded by people she did not know save that one of them was New Order, rushing around, knife in hand, towards who knew what, was reckless to say the least. Then she realized she just wanted to be away from Adroyan, or away from his direct interrogation.

Still, there was one piece of damage she could at least mitigate. She looked at the knife as if she did not know how it had come there, then threw it casually on to a nearby worktop. Discarding a weapon was not her idea of wisdom, but the gesture might prove useful in future dealings with Adroyan and, rightly or wrongly, having committed herself now to going to the aid of whoever was calling, if the worst came to the worst, she still had her own knife in her belt.

That done, she stepped out into the passage, without speaking further to Adroyan.

But there was only silence there as the lights bloomed into life. Glancing in both directions, she ran across to the common room with the intention of waking Josyff.

Pushing open the door, she paused. She could see Henk’s fire, lower and redder, though still hissing contentedly as he had prophesied, but Josyff was not there. Esyal glanced quickly about the room to see if he had merely moved to a more comfortable chair, but she knew he had not: the blanket that had covered him lay discarded and crumpled on the floor.

She stepped back into the passage slightly on tiptoe as if she were afraid of waking someone — or something.

“What’s the matter?”

It was Adroyan.

“I don’t know,” Esyal replied. “But the surveyor’s not here.”

Adroyan pushed past her, none too gently. He strode purposefully around the room, his eyes everywhere.

“I told you, he’s not there,” Esyal said.

Adroyan turned to her, his face unreadable.

Even as she held his gaze, Esyal caught a shadowy movement at the edge of her vision. At the same time, and from the other side, the cry reached her — still wordless but still full of fear. She was aware of her heart beating rapidly as her legs carried her backwards until she was pressing hard against the far wall of the passage. Turning to face the movement, she saw a tall thin figure approaching. Stooped and dishevelled he was obviously straight from his bed, and his expression was one of both irritation and concern though this became surprise as he saw Esyal.

“Oh, you’re awake,” he told her.

“Yes,” she said, eyeing him uncertainly. “Was it you shouting just now?”

“No, of course not,” came Henk’s testy reply. “Was it you?”

“No.”

Henk looked at her attentively for a moment.

“Are you sure?” He rubbed his head.

“Yes!”

Henk scrutinized her a little longer before turning to Adroyan.

“It’s not the surveyor again, is it?” he asked.

“Again?” queried Adroyan.

“He’s had... accidents,” Henk said, hesitating. “I think he... walks in his sleep... or the building...” He stopped and lifted his hand in a futile attempt to flatten his hair.

“Or the building?” Adroyan pressed.

“I think he walks in his sleep,” Henk repeated definitively. “Bumps into things, hurts himself. This place affects some people oddly.”

He motioned his listeners in the direction from which the call had come, and set off, his head craning forward. Esyal and Adroyan fell in behind him.

At the end of the passage, another crossed it at right angles. It ran for some way in both directions before curving out of sight. Several doors opened on to it and it was well lit. The three did not speak as they came to a halt. Henk cast from side to side listening for some indication of which way he should turn. Finally, with a shrug, he turned left.

“Shall we go the other way?” Esyal asked.

“If you want to get lost,” Henk replied.

Esyal bridled slightly at this offhand response, and considered for a moment setting off in the opposite direction regardless. However, the passage looked very much like the one they had just come along and it needed no great feat of imagination to appreciate that she would perhaps not have to travel far before being completely disorientated. A vivid image of endless passages interweaving and shifting like the threads of a terrible knot rushed into her mind. Involuntarily she tightened her arms about herself, catching Adroyan’s eye as she did.

“Just the thought of getting lost in this place,” she said hesitantly. “Is it very big?”

“It has yet—”

“—to be measured.” The interruption and her caustic tone spilled out before she could stop them but they dispelled her disturbing vision. “Yes,” she added, pointlessly but half-apologetically.

“Best stay with me,” Henk said, also more conciliatory. “The Keep’s been in an odd mood lately.”

Esyal shot an inquiring look towards Adroyan but his face was again unreadable.

She transferred the inquiry to its cause: Henk.

“An odd mood?”

“Yes. It’s been like it for some time, now.” He stopped and straightened up and his voice became thoughtful. “But it’s been worse since the surveyor arrived.”

“It?” Esyal probed.

Henk turned to her. “The mood, the changes. The place is changing — no one believes me — Qualto, Nyk — going round with their eyes shut — don’t like to see it — but it’s changing all right. Something’s unsettling it.”

Esyal was about to demand an explanation when Adroyan forestalled her.

“Precisely what is changing?” he demanded.

They came to another junction. Only one passage from it was lit. Henk nodded. “The main hall,” he said, as if confirming an earlier conclusion.

“The main hall is changing?” Adroyan echoed.

“That’s where the surveyor’s gone — if it is the surveyor,” Henk replied. “Thought it would be.”

“Explain what you mean by changes,” Adroyan insisted.

Henk replied without looking at him.

“You’ll see,” he said.

The passage was widening.

“When you start your... measuring. You’ll see.”

Before Adroyan could pursue Henk’s enigmatic remark, they were walking on to one of the balconies that overlooked the Great Hall.

Esyal let out a soft cry of surprise and ran forward to lean on the stone balustrade, her eyes scanning the carvings staring from the walls all around her. Below her, standing motionless in the middle of the hall, was Josyff.

He looked up and raised his hand in surprised greeting before any of them could speak.

“Oh, it’s you. Did you hear it too?” he called. “I was beginning to think I was dreaming again.”

“Are you unwell?” Adroyan shouted, his long body looking like one of the protruding carvings as he leaned precariously over the balustrade.

“I’m fine,” came the reply. “Just puzzled.”

“This way, sir.” Henk, almost deferential now, touched Adroyan’s arm and indicated a doorway at the end of the balcony. It led them down a narrow, spiral staircase between walls which were randomly decorated with carvings similar to those in the Great Hall except that they were set into the stonework. As Esyal looked at these, she felt that many of them were set ready to spring out at her, like wild creatures protecting their lairs — or waiting in predatory ambush. Paradoxically this impression was even worse with those where the openings were sealed with glass. Flaws, if they were flaws, in the glass, resulted in the figures being lit peculiarly and shifting shadows made them seem to move. She was quietly relieved to emerge into the broader confines of the Great Hall, though for a moment she thought that all the carvings were turning to examined her.

She focused immediately on Josyff who was advancing to meet them. He was smiling as he spoke to her.

“I thought it was you shouting when I woke up,” he said. “I thought, perhaps you couldn’t sleep after your... experience... wandered off to explore and lost your bearings.” He shrugged. “It’s easily done. This is no ordinary building. And the way the lights work can be downright alarming until you get used to them.”

Esyal was apologetic. “I’d just gone for something to eat. I... we...” She indicated the others, “thought it was you. I’m sorry if I alarmed you.”

Josyff was dismissive. “It’s all right. I knew it wasn’t you when I heard it the second time. It wasn’t a woman’s voice.” Then his smile faded and his face became uncertain.

Adroyan cut through the exchange. “But who was calling out, then?” he said.

As if by common agreement, all three turned to Henk who was looking around at the watching carvings. He met their combined gaze with a dour indifference.

“It’s no good asking me. I told you; this place is changing. Something’s disturbed it. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m leaving at the first chance. I want no part of it.” Though his demeanour was unchanged, there was just enough harshness in his tone to indicate an underlying fear.

Josyff was about to speak, but Adroyan forestalled him.

“You’ll leave when your tour is ended. You have a bond.”

Henk looked at him directly. “You think this place cares for my bond?”

Adroyan did not reply.

“I will leave when I can,” Henk continued flatly. “You should do the same — all of you.”

Unsettled by Henk’s remarks and wanting to end the uncomfortable tension that Adroyan’s intrusion had caused, Josyff became conciliatory.

“Well, it’s an academic debate at the moment. We’re all here until the snow eases whether we like it or not. More to the point, someone was calling out for help and we still don’t know who it was.”

His voice faded into the silence of the Great Hall as the four stood motionless, listening, waiting.

Not for the first time, Josyff wished himself far from this place. The sense of release he had felt as he had moved away from the Keep tugged at him pitilessly. That he was not dreaming, that he had heard someone calling — for help — was confirmed by the presence of the others. That the voice had not belonged to Nyk, Qualto or Badr, he was certain.

“It’s gone.” It was Henk.

“It?” Josyff queried.

“It,” Henk confirmed, without amplification. “We may as well all go back to bed.” He turned towards the stairs. Esyal caught his arm.

“But someone called out for help,” she said urgently. “We can’t just...”

“It’s gone,” Henk repeated.

Esyal released him and looked at the others in exasperation and confusion. Adroyan was looking at the carvings, his head turning slowly as though he were doing a delicate exercise. Josyff could do little other than shrug.

“Henk knows the building,” he said, weakly. “It might have been some freak of the weather. This is a very unusual building.”

“That was no draught, no creaking door,” Esyal protested angrily. “It was a...”

Josyff stepped closer to her and lowered his voice. “Well, whatever it was, it’s stopped now. And besides, we can’t search this place without Henk’s help. Let’s take his advice — it’s desperately late and I for one am tired. Plus this place is bitterly cold. We can talk in the morning.”

Reluctantly, Esyal agreed and within a few minutes she was back on the couch in the common room staring up at the ceiling. Henk had said nothing as they walked back but had become almost cheerful as he descended on the fire and stirred it into vigorous life again.

Josyff tossed and turned for a few minutes, but the fatigue of the day’s efforts once again overrode his concerns about what had just happened and the returned unease of being back in the Keep, and he was soon asleep.

Esyal turned and looked at him. It was difficult to ignore the countless questions that kept vying for attention. But none of them were answerable, she knew, least of all now. She must watch and listen — and, too, if Henk made good his intention of leaving the place, she must be with him. She could do nothing out here, and there was always a chance that whoever had attacked her party would find their way here. Whatever else it is, this place is a rat trap, she concluded before drifting off. She must get away.

* * * *

Through the passages curled a vague and tremulous whisper. Briefly it filled the Great Hall, like the wind in distant trees, then it was gone.

“They can... hear... us.”