The Keep

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 32Adroyan gesticulated to Josyff but then had to step back to allow the group to pass out of the falling snow and into the building.

“You’ve plotted today’s work — drawn it?” he demanded of Josyff without any preamble.

Qualto closed the door noisily, making the bolts rattle, though he did not throw them. It gave Josyff the opportunity to control his irritation. Nevertheless, it was somewhat to his own surprise that his voice was quite level when he replied: “No, sir.” Old reflexes moved him immediately to forestall any rebuke. “We’ve done good work today.” He indicated Badr. “Useful progress. But it’s been a long and peculiar day, we’re both tired, and I know from past experience that doing this kind of work when I’m tired merely leads to mistakes and the need to re-do work. It’s inefficient and time-wasting.”

He noticed as he spoke that Adroyan, normally a solid, rather static presence, was strangely mobile. One hand was tapping his leg and his eyes were restless.

Excitement? Nervousness?

Josyff could not decide, though he could quite clearly discern impatience. Adroyan looked inclined to pursue his inquiry, but Josyff’s explanation, both neutral and straightforward, left him no avenue open.

Qualto and Nyk moved simultaneously into the subsequent silence, siding naturally with Josyff who, particularly in the presence of Adroyan, they were beginning to perceive as “one of them”.

“You missed the mealtime, sir,” Qualto said. “You must be hungry by now. I can make you something, if you wish.” There was just a hint of a schoolteacherly, “be on time in future,” in his voice.

“And the drawbridge is open again,” Nyk said, before Adroyan could reply. He clapped his hands with satisfaction. “No idea how or why, but it’s open. We wedged it temporarily while I work out a better way of stopping it happening again.”

Adroyan twitched edgily under this joint assault, looking from Qualto to Nyk and back again two or three times.

“Open again,” he echoed. “Good — yes, good. I was concerned.”

“We all were, sir,” Nyk said. “But whatever caused it, it’s open now so it’s only the snow that’s keeping us here.”

“Snow?”

“Very heavy now, sir.”

“Can we leave?”

Nyk was unequivocal. “Too dangerous, sir. I’d hopes the other day that this was just a spell of bad weather, but it’s really settling in. Looks as if the winter’s here early this year. And I’m afraid it could be a long one.”

“I’ll do a full inventory of our supplies,” Qualto interjected reassuringly. “I’m fairly certain that food’s not going to be a problem, but I’ll check anyway. If necessary we can work out a little rationing scheme.”

“Yes, yes,” Adroyan waved him silent. “Do whatever is necessary. But this is the place... it...” He stopped abruptly as though recollecting where he was and turned back to Nyk. “The measuring of this place is most urgent — I can’t emphasize how urgent — we need more people here — more surveyors. I must get back to the village.”

Nyk returned his gaze squarely. “It’s not possible, sir. If you remember, Aryck and Jonal — your guides from the village — they wanted to get back as quickly as possible then and it’s worse now — they wouldn’t even take Esyal for fear she’d slow them down. And they’re experienced guides. No disrespect, sir, but you’re city-bred. Mountains might make fine scenery, but they’re always dangerous and at times like this even more so.”

Seeing that Adroyan was not responding well to this advice, Nyk became both blunt and conciliatory.

“I don’t know what’s especially important about this place but I think you’ll have to take some comfort from the fact that at least these surveyors got here and can get on with their work — a few days later and neither they nor their equipment would have got through. In fact, just a day later and the equipment wouldn’t and they’d have been stuck here for the winter with nothing to do. Even I could see that that old stuff I found for them wasn’t up to the job.” He smiled. “Though they were polite about it.”

“Nyk’s right, I’m afraid, sir,” Josyff said, reluctant to see Nyk fighting unaided. “We did some work with it, but it wasn’t really suitable — a building like this needs modern, accurate equipment. If it hadn’t arrived we’d have been very badly delayed, if not lost, but now it’s here we’ll be able to make good progress. You’re the judge of the urgency, of course, but I’d be very surprised if we didn’t end up with the job finished and nothing for us to do except wait for the snow to clear. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to study the results and...” He hesitated. “Make whatever decisions it is you need to make.”

Adroyan looked from side to side several times as though thoughts were washing to and fro about his mind. Gradually the movement slowed and then stopped.

“It seems that circumstances conspire both for and against me,” he said. “I must accept the realities of our position. But...” He frowned impatiently, then quite suddenly he was calm — and smiling — something that none of them had seen him do before. “Yes, I’m sure all will be well. It may just be a testing time — for me — but everything that is needed is here.” He turned to Qualto. “My apologies for missing the meal you prepared; if you can find me a few scraps to get me through the night, that would be most welcome.”

“Of course, sir.”

Qualto surged into action, taking Adroyan by the elbow and whisking him off in the direction of the kitchen.

The others watched them leave in silence. Adroyan’s departure had left a peculiar quietness in the hallway.

Nyk ended it. “Nice to see him smile,” he said.

“Yes,” Josyff agreed, half-heartedly.

Yes, I think it’s a mask, too, Esyal thought. A mask on a mask — the man was impossible to read anyway.

“I wonder what it is about this place the New Order’s got him so bothered about,” she said.

“Maybe he doesn’t know,” Nyk speculated. “Maybe, like Josyff and Badr here, he’s just been sent out here to do a job.”

Josyff shook his head. “People carrying the signed authority of the First Member of the Ordrans aren’t just sent out to do jobs.”

Nyk, however, was in no mood for dark conjectures — the drawbridge was open again and wedged, and he had satisfied himself that, if needs be, he could handle this newcomer, whatever bits of paper he might have.

“Well, it’s none of my concern and he can be as urgent and fretful as he wants, it won’t clear the snow. In the meantime, I’ve a couple of little jobs to do then I’m for an early night.” He glanced at a nearby clock as he was leaving. “Before it’s too late.”

At the mention of an early night, Josyff felt the quiet pressures of this long and strange day close about him. “A wise decision. I think I’ll do the same. I need to draw a line under these past days. We’ll be able to get stuck into this job properly tomorrow.”

The mood spread. Henk grunted a terse, “good night,” and left, and Badr stifled a yawn. Only Esyal appeared to be unaffected.

“Come and look at that scroll before you go,” she said.

Josyff was inclined to refuse but he had to pass the common room on the way to his own room and Esyal’s tone had more of command in it than request.

He pointed towards the main door and made a token resistance. “The drawbridge is open again, you know...”

“Yes, yes, but this might tell us why it happened,” Esyal insisted. “Surely you’re curious?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Come on.”

The scroll lay on the table where they had left it, the ornaments they had used to hold it open standing like patient sentries. Badr headed for the fireside armchair and the book he had been reading. “I’ll leave you two to it,” he said, adjusting the cushion and leaning back luxuriously. “I’ll be doing as the natives do just as soon as I’ve finished this chapter.”

Josyff smiled. “I don’t think you’re going to get that far, but we’ll wake you when we leave.”

Badr opened his book with heavy disdain.

From the kitchen, the faint sound of Qualto’s voice attempting what was apparently a one-sided conversation drifted in through the open door as Josyff and Esyal turned their attention to the scroll.

“A different time,” Josyff mused to himself as he looked at the sketches. “More leisurely than today, for sure — look at the draughtsmanship in these.”

“A different time, maybe,” Esyal said. “But the people don’t seem to be much different. Look at their faces.”

Josyff bent forward to examine the particular sketch she was pointing at. The detail was remarkable. There was... fear... in many of the faces. And other things. Still staring at the sketch, Josyff sat back, as though he could not quite believe what he was seeing. But it was there, he realized: fear, and anger, and determination. And the whole sweep of the drawing gave the impression of urgent movement everywhere.

If this was just a working drawing showing what was done to the drawbridge, why would anyone take such pains? He voiced the thought.

“Perhaps he was just a naturally good artist,” Esyal offered.

“Damn good,” Josyff replied. He looked quickly at some of the other sketches. They were all obviously by the same hand and they all had the same quality. A thought occurred to him. “These look like dignitaries or officials of some kind, here.” He tapped the scroll lightly.

“The ones doing the watching?” Esyal asked acidly.

A laugh bubbled up in Josyff at her tone but he managed to reduce it to a knowing smile as he pressed on.

“Maybe... maybe they had some kind of... official artist... to record special events. Did you see any other sketches?”

Esyal looked at him wide-eyed. “I’ve only had the job an hour,” she exclaimed indignantly.

This time Josyff could not contain his laughter. “Yes, of course,” he conceded. “Sorry.”

“Let’s spread this thing right out and see if there are any more,” Esyal said, implementing her suggestion even as she spoke. More ornaments were drafted into service, a slowly drowsing Badr being prodded into confused wakefulness in the process.

“Excuse me,” Esyal said insincerely as she stepped over his extended legs.

Badr shook his head violently and levered himself out of his chair. He looked ruefully at the book, closed it carefully and put it on a nearby table.

Josyff commiserated. “Henk’s fires are too comfortable to read in front of.”

“I should’ve known better,” Badr admitted. “Especially after a day like today.” He drifted across to the table. “Have you found anything interesting?”

Before anyone could reply, there was a brief scuffle and a near-disaster with two of the ornaments as the scroll strove to return to the tight-rolled condition that it had been kept in, presumably since its creation. Badr gathered up some of the books that were lying about the room and ended its struggle.

“Longer than it looked,” Esyal said, as a still-rolled portion of the scroll stuck out over the end of the table, resolutely refusing the lure of gravity.

“These are impressive, aren’t they?” Badr said, doing as Josyff had done before, and bending forward to study the sketches more closely.

“No ordinary draughtsman, this,” he proclaimed after a little while.

“My thoughts, too,” Josyff said. “I was speculating that they might have had some kind of official artist to record special events.”

“Possible, I suppose,” Badr said, still engrossed. “It certainly looks like a special event, judging by the number of people there.”

“More an emergency than an event, judging by the state they all seem to be in,” Esyal said, with a hint of a taunt in her voice. The two men nodded in agreement and continued their study of the sketches.

“They’re a bizarre mixture of drawings of record, working drawings and works of art,” Josyff muttered as he carefully unrolled the remains of the scroll. “Oh!”

His soft exclamation drew the others to him.

“Nasty,” he said.

The sketch he was pointing to — the last one on the scroll — showed the scaffolding surrounding the drawbridge lying in ruins. Where many of the previous sketches had reflected a sense of movement and activity, this one radiated stillness, as though the collapse had happened very quickly and stunned both watchers and workers into a shocked silence.

“There are people under this,” Josyff said. “Look.” He indicated an arm extending from the wreckage — then a foot — and a hint of a coloured shirt in the darkness.

There followed a swift comparison of the sketches to identify the different characters portrayed there.

“Four,” they concluded, eventually.

“And probably killed,” Badr added. “Certainly badly hurt at least. Those are big timbers, and those chains and pulley blocks will be very heavy too.”

“I notice none of the dignitaries are hurt — just further away, and looking helpless,” Esyal said, overtly acidic this time.

Josyff ignored the comment. “I wonder what it was all about,” he said, before giving an immediate and self-deprecating shake of his head. “Of course, we could do the obvious and read the text.”

Badr cast a dubious eye along the length of the extended scroll with its sketches and its close lines of meticulous script.

“Some other time,” he said, through another stifled yawn. This one proved to be infectious, and spread rapidly through the ranks of his allies. It ended the study of the scroll which was relieved of its restraints and allowed to roll back into its long-stored shape.

“I’ll see if there are any more like it tomorrow,” Esyal said, as she placed it carefully behind a heavy ornament.

A little later, Josyff sank into his bed with hedonistic relish.

“Good night, my love,” he said to his absent, yet ever-present, wife. “Good night. It’s been another bizarre day. But a good one — I think. At least the job’s under way. And the door’s open again — we’re free to leave — apart from miles of snow-filled valleys, that is.”

His thoughts meandered as sleep slowly took over him: he reviewed the day’s work and planned tomorrow’s; puzzled about the drawbridge and the mysterious echo of what was perhaps a similar event in the past shown on Esyal’s scroll. And then there was Adroyan. One of the Ordrans, perhaps? What to make of him and his being here? These were not considerations conducive to sleep but they could not impinge on the momentum of Josyff’s fatigue and he was soon asleep.

Then, seemingly without the passage of any time, his eyes were wide and he was surrounded by shouting and hammering.