The Keep

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 37“What on earth does all that mean?” Esyal asked. “Many-faced, channels for evil, the Heart of the Keep must be destroyed?” Her voice was unsteady and she was playing nervously with the scroll — briefly, a little girl. She looked down at her hands.

“Hello, what’s this?”

Josyff was pointing to writing on the back of the scroll. Neat and confident, it was in marked contrast to the writing they had just been looking at.

“It’s almost like a copying exercise,” Josyff said. “Looks like a poem of some kind.”

He read:

And the silence was sundered...

Movement, and darkness and light...

And the pain of parting and difference...

And conflict in the Ways unknowable...

For each would be the whole.

Yet in striving, the whole could not be made.

And in not striving all would become again silence.

Which must not be.

Must not be...

Conflict...

Into the darkness, into the light...

Arcing to and fro...

Searching. Reaching...

For that which was not silence would know itself...

“Oh,” Esyal said incongruously after a brief pause. “Doesn’t rhyme very well, does it?”

The plaintive note in her voice exploded a low chuckle out of Josyff.

“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed, a little too quickly.

“Don’t patronize,” Esyal retorted, fixing his arch look with a narrow one of her own.

“Sorry.”

“I wonder why someone would write a poem on the back of the scroll? It’s not as if it’s any old piece of scrap paper — it’s some kind of official document, isn’t it?”

“It seems like it,” Josyff agreed again. He peered narrowly at the writing, then, with a little awkward scrabbling, compared it with that on the other side. “But it looks to me as though it’s been written by the same person who made this... final... record. Look. Here, before the writing started to deteriorate.”

Esyal took the scroll from him.

“You’re right,” she decided unhappily after some scrutiny. “Everything’s questions, questions, questions and no answers.” She stood up and jerked an angry thumb towards the door then began counting on her fingers. “What got into him, rushing off like that? What’s this poem mean? What happened to these people, and what’s this writer burbling on about — those “beyond”, many-faced, channels of evil, Ways unknowable? It’s creepy.” Then, violently: “Damn! This whole place is creepy. Suddenly I can see why Henk wants to leave. It’s like a grotesque asylum — where the inmates are sane and the building’s mad!”

Josyff quailed before this unexpected passion, at the same time smiling uncertainly at her image of the building.

“Well, at least the door’s open,” he offered.

Esyal’s jaw set as she turned to him but, before she could speak, the floor began to shake and a low rumbling filled the room. Esyal staggered and let out a startled cry and, even though he was kneeling, Josyff had to put a hand on the floor to steady himself. The ladders which served the shelves began moving alarmingly. The shaking grew in intensity, as did the rumbling, and Josyff found himself holding his breath and clutching fruitlessly at the carpeted floor. There was a final jarring thud, then silence and stillness returned.

Josyff’s breath burst out of him as though he had been dropped on the floor and, for a moment, he could not move. His heart was pounding and his stomach churning. He was vaguely aware of the sound of the ladders bumping into their stops, but it was muffled and distant as though stifled by the weight of the silence that had flooded back into the room. Gradually he levered himself to his feet — his legs were trembling.

Esyal, white-faced and wide-eyed, was clinging to one of the tables.

“Are you all right?” he heard himself asking.

“Yes,” came a shaky reply, followed by, “No, yes — yes — I’m not hurt, anyway — what the devil was that?”

Josyff did not reply. He was willing his reluctant legs to carry him to a nearby chair where he slumped down gratefully, put his head in his hands and waited for his body’s responses to grow quieter.

“Are you all right?” Esyal asked him as she too sat down.

“Like you, yes and no,” Josyff managed. “But a little better than I was a moment ago — I think.” He answered her previous question. “That must have beenan earthquake, for sure. Terrifying.”

As his composure slowly returned, Josyff looked around the room. Despite what had seemed to be an extremely violent upheaval, little appeared to have been disturbed. A few books at the ends of rows had tumbled to lie flat on the shelves and that was all. The ladders appeared to be none the worse for their impromptu journeys. Irrelevantly it came to Josyff that they had probably been designed to withstand far worse abuse from ordinary users.

“No harm done here, by the look of it,” he said, standing up and taking a deep breath. “Except to our nerves and our dignity. We’d better see how everyone else is.”

Heading back towards the common room, they encountered a flustered Qualto — towel in one hand, large knife in the other.

“Are you expecting rain or attackers?” Esyal asked.

Qualto let out an incoherent noise, part squeal, part growl. “Rattled every pot and pan in my kitchen. Never heard such a racket. Thought the whole place was going to come crashing down.”

“Any damage?” Josyff asked.

“Just one plate slipped off the table,” Qualto said. “Otherwise nothing, as far as I could see. Surprisingly. What...?”

Josyff anticipated the question. “No idea. Probably an earthquake. No harm done in the book room. We were just coming to see if you and the others were all right.”

The common room proved to be deserted, but as they were leaving it, Nyk appeared at the end of the corridor. He was steadying himself against the wall and seemed to be in a distressed condition. They ran up to him.

“What’s happened?” Josyff asked, concerned, and taking his arm to support him.

“Broken,” Nyk replied. His eyes were wide and his expression shocked. “Just broken. Like so many matchsticks.”

“What’s broken?” Josyff pressed.

Nyk gesticulated vaguely. “The timbers — holding open the drawbridge. Broken.” He was shaking. Josyff ushered him towards the common room and motioned to Qualto. “Go and get him something to drink.” Qualto scurried off, towel flapping and knife glinting.

Josyff led Nyk to a chair and sat him down gently. As he did so, Badr and Henk appeared in the doorway. Even the impassive Henk’s face was alive with questions, but Josyff held up a quietening hand and they both remained silent where they were. He crouched by Nyk. It upset him to see this bright, resilient and likeable man — his unobtrusive but unstinting support since his arrival — in such a state. He glanced round the room.

“We’re all here — bar Adroyan — and none of us are hurt...”

Qualto arrived, pushing his way between Badr and Henk. He handed a mug to Josyff who sniffed it and then offered it to Nyk.

“Drink this,” he said quietly. “It’ll help settle you down. Then you can tell us what’s happened to upset you like this.”

Nyk took the mug hesitantly — his hands were still shaking — then nodded.

“Thanks. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine,” he said, unconvincingly. “Just give me a moment.”

“None of us are leaving,” Josyff said, affecting a light-heartedness he did not feel.

In as much as he had expected any response to this, it was not the one he received. Nyk looked at him, took a purposeful drink, bent down to put the mug on the floor and said flatly, “Damned right we’re not. Not now.”

“What?”

“We’re not leaving. The drawbridge’s closed again — just like before. Tight shut.” He pressed the palms of his hands together with a strain that made his shoulders shake, as though the effort alone could crush the present back into a safer past.

For an instant, Josyff felt himself in two places at once: in his dream, struggling with a heavy timber in the din of the dusty courtyard, and at the same time poring over the scrolls in the book room with Esyal. For reasons which he could not have identified, the first question which rushed out of the confusion and found voice was, “How much water do we have here?”

It seemed to surprise Nyk as much as it did Josyff. The wide-eyed anxiety slipped away as he turned again to his questioner.

“A lot, a lot,” he stammered before becoming matter-of-fact host answering the needs of his guest. “Constantly topped up by the rains and the snow — there are enormous storage tanks — this place is meant to house a lot of people — a lot. Why?”

“Oh, nothing important,” Josyff flustered. “Just something... unpleasant... that Esyal and I were reading about. I’m sorry. Finish your tale first. What’s happened?”

“What’s happened? You tell me, because I don’t know.” Nyk’s face became fretful again. “I went back after dinner to tidy up some bits and pieces. Nothing special — just so that I’d be able to get back to normal right away tomorrow. I was up a ladder lifting some tools down when all of a sudden the place shook. Just shook. Not much, I don’t think, looking back, but it frightened the life out of me. I was down that ladder and up the stairs before I knew what I was doing. Didn’t realize I could move so fast.”

He blew out a noisy breath and took another drink.

“Just as well, though. The place seemed to tilt over. I... fell... it felt like falling... against the wall and something held me there. Then there was this noise. Things... tearing, breaking... dreadful sounds. Probably didn’t last very long but it seemed to go on forever. Then...” He snapped his fingers. “It was gone. I could move. The place was quiet and still — just a bit of dust coming up from below.”

He fell silent.

“And?” Josyff prompted.

Nyk hesitated. “I grabbed a handrail and just stood there until my legs stopped shaking — or at least stopped enough for me to stand on them.” He looked down. His feet were tapping nervously. He pressed his hands on his knees to stop them. “Then I went back down the stairs — very slowly, and holding tight to that rail, I can tell you.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t believe it. All those timbers we put in — and those I’d put in today — and the fastenings — all smashed — just snapped like dry kindling — and scattered everywhere. And the counterweight upright again — tight shut just like it was before. I didn’t even need to touch it to know that — it looked as though it were rooted to the wall.”

Unwanted images from the scrolls and his dream filled Josyff’s mind, and it was to still these rather than offer Nyk any reproach that he asked, “Didn’t you say that anything that tried to close the bridge would have to take the walls down?” His tone was harsher than he had intended.

“I did,” Nyk replied. “That’s what I thought. And the walls have been damaged. Not enough to bring anything down, but anchors and bolts have been torn out. I’d never have thought it possible. What the devil’s happening?”

An uneasy silence filled the room.

Josyff glanced around. Everyone was visibly shaken but they were all looking at him. He forced himself to be matter-of-fact.

“So much for getting back to normal,” he said, as lightly as he could, patting Nyk on the shoulder. He addressed the others. “It’s late, and I’m open to suggestions, but I can’t see any of us getting any sleep after this so we’d better go and see the damage for ourselves.”

“And if that drawbridge has shut again, we need to give some serious thought to getting out of here, bad weather or no,” Badr added. “There’s no saying what might happen next.”

“No.” Adroyan’s voice filled the room. He was framed in the doorway, his eyes alive. “The measuring must be finished — it is more urgent than ever, now.” He looked squarely at Badr who had turned round when he spoke. “When that is done we can consider leaving.”

Josyff noticed Badr’s jaw stiffening, and Esyal, notwithstanding his earlier advice, was obviously about to enter into violent disagreement.

“Very well,” he said briskly. “Leaving we’ll have to leave ’til later, anyway, but we still need to find out what’s happened. Let’s go and see what’s happened.”