The sundering hours, p.6
The Sundering Hours, page 6
“I knew this day was coming, but I thought I’d have a bit more time.” She donned the holsters and checked the two pistols tucked snugly inside. “Our dear Entress had been keeping me safe from Stalikos. Good of her, too. She always suspected I was much more than a sympathizer.”
“What? Seherene?” Spindler asked, doubly confounded. “But why should—”
“Questions are for later. Now where’s your kit? I didn’t see you come up with one but please tell me you have it somewhere.”
“Have what?”
“An escape bag! Don’t you have an escape bag? Always have an escape bag!”
A brief noise of shouting came from somewhere down below. Mavie drew one of her pistols and shoved it into Spindler’s hand.
“Take this. Hide it in your belt. Get downstairs to my assistant, quickly but quietly. I want both of you to meet me on the beach on the north side of the library.”
“What about the other staff?”
“I put them all on indefinite paid leave. There haven’t been any patrons in the place since the hunters moved in. No use making them lag about with nothing to do.”
More shouting. Then the sound of doors slamming. Mavie put on a leather overcoat and shouldered the pack. Spindler thought she would’ve made an imposing sight if not for her advanced age and slight frame. Still, he was amazed by the deftness and speed at which she moved in the sudden crisis. She hurried to the room’s only door and pressed her ear against it. Spindler tucked the pistol under his belt and met her there when she beckoned to him.
“I won’t go this way,” she said in a low voice. “Reggie’s still guarding the door and I don’t want him to see me leave. I can’t have him be held responsible for losing me. He wasn’t even supposed to let you in here. He’s a good boy, that one.”
“But how will you get out? Through the window?”
“Dumbwaiter.”
Spindler frowned. “What did you call me?”
“Oh, you silly clot head. Look there!”
She pointed to the opposite wall. It was half-hidden in shadows but he could just make out the frame of an inset window with a sliding door over its face.
“I had it built just for me,” she said. “Should only take about five minutes to get to the beach once I start off. Now hurry along. And stay sharp!”
She opened the door and pushed him through it. Spindler found himself immediately locking eyes with the young Colonist-hunter guarding her quarters. He smoothed down his jacket and nodded at him, trying to calm his fast-beating heart.
“Thanks for the time, Warden.”
The hunter nodded in return, but with no lack of suspicion. Spindler did not wait around to justify it.
As he made his way down to the first floor, the shouting grew louder. There were noises of running footsteps and more slamming doors. Colonist-hunters started coming into view. Most looked worried, others were angry. All were on their feet and staring towards the front entrance. This was fortunate, for it meant no eyes were directed at him.
It wasn’t until he stepped off the last spiral staircase that he saw what had drawn everyone’s attention. At the door stood no gang of ragged Colonist-hunters, but two dozen soldiers. There were both men and women in their ranks, all wearing striking dark blue uniforms with silver epaulets and tailored greatcoats. Their hats were stiff and broad-brimmed, with one side upturned. Each also had a sword strapped to one hip, a pistol on the other, and a rifle slung over the shoulder.
Their leader, if that’s indeed who he was, argued with a handful of Colonist-hunters.
“Sir, we are authorized to take whatever actions are necessary to carry out our orders. If you continue to stand in our way, we will have no choice but to take you into custody as well.”
The Colonist-hunter standing toe-to-toe with him twitched his mustache in vexation. “This is our territory. We were charged with keeping it, along with its prisoner. We don’t recognize you or your authority.”
So the quarrel went. Eventually, the head soldier dispatched half a dozen troops to post themselves at the spiral staircases around the library, effectively closing off any foreseeable exit points. This only infuriated the Colonist-hunters more, who rushed to block the doors giving access to the roof and terrace areas—hence the shouting, slamming, and racing footsteps.
Just as Spindler reached the assistant’s desk, the lead soldier pushed past the hunters and headed for the same spot. Spindler whipped around a guide pillar at the last minute to hide himself.
“Excuse me, sir. We apologize for the disturbance, but we—”
“Yes, yes, I know. You have a warrant for her arrest,” the assistant said. “I could’ve heard you from the roof, you know, shouting like that.”
“Can you direct us to her location? It seems these hunters act upon little and know even less.”
That started a shoving match between the groups behind him, accompanied by several unsavory phrases and insults.
“Twelfth floor!” the assistant shouted above the rising noise. “Back of the hall! You’ll see a door marked ‘Staff’!”
The soldier thanked him, then turned and waded into the fray which grew more impassioned by the moment. Someone pulled a pistol. Spindler hurried behind the desk and stepped up beside the old man.
“Sir—”
“Oh!” the assistant cried, putting a hand on his heart. “For goodness sake! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“It’s time to go. Mavie wants us to meet her on the beach.”
“Ah, yes. I figured things were headed that way.” He turned and opened a cupboard, withdrew a small leather pack, and slung it over his shoulder.
“You have one, too?” Spindler asked.
The old man raised his bushy gray eyebrows. “Of course. Always have an escape bag.”
The shouting voices grew even louder. More hunters ran in to help their fellow comrades. More drew weapons on each side. The soldiers who had been sent to the staircases rushed back to aid their fellow troops.
“Stand away!” the head soldier shouted. “This is your last warning! We will fire in defense!”
“Quick! It’s now or never!” Spindler whispered urgently.
The assistant turned to the perch at the back of the alcove and held out his hand to the dark-feathered bird resting there.
“Come along, Varn.”
The bird hopped onto his curled forefinger. Spindler took the lead and hurried towards the front entrance, his hand on Mavie’s pistol.
They escaped undetected. No guard had been left immediately outside the doors, but half a dozen rifle-bearing soldiers patrolled the bridge which linked the library to the mainland.
“Hurry!” the old man said, nudging Spindler. “Down the stairs to the right!”
It took a second for Spindler to see any stairs, half-hidden as they were by shrubs and weeds, as well as heaps of snow. They followed the curving path along the wall until they came to the sandy beach at the bottom. A closed door stood a few feet away.
“Inside?” Spindler asked.
“No. That’s only a boiler room. Round to the back! Farther on!”
Half a minute later, they found Mavie kneeling on the sand and pulling heavy stones from the rear section of the outer wall. She was breathing hard, attempting to move quickly but slowed by their weight. Spindler glimpsed the prow of a boat within.
“Help me with these,” she said.
“Up, Varn,” the old man commanded. The bird promptly hopped from his finger to his shoulder, allowing Ezra to rush forward and assist her as well as he could.
Spindler dove in between them, working twice as fast as his counterparts. It was awkward with one hand half-bandaged but they were soon able to reach into the gap and haul the craft out onto the sand. It was a small rowboat, barely big enough for the three of them, but in good condition. After a moment or two of rest, they dragged it another twenty feet across the sand and into the freezing waters of the Northern Sea.
“You first, Ezra,” Mavie said, nodding to the old man. “In you go. Varn, too.”
The assistant smiled, gave out a sigh, then brought his hand to his shoulder and summoned the bird to his forefinger again.
“Of the two of us . . . I’m afraid only Varn is suited for such adventures.”
Mavie’s anxious energy dissolved into confusion. “What?”
“I’d slow you down. And the soldiers would recognize my face, just as the hunters would.”
“Oh, don’t be absurd. This is not the time to—”
“I can do more good here,” he interrupted. “I sent them up to the twelfth floor to look for you. By the time they get back down to my desk, I’ll have remembered my mistake and can send them back up to the eleventh. Old men forget things like that, you know.”
“Ezra—”
“And you’ll have a decent head start. You see? So it really is for the best.”
Mavie’s wizened face wrinkled into a deep frown. “You can’t stay behind. You’ll be arrested once they find out what you’ve done. That you’ve helped me. Possibly worse than arrested under this new government of theirs.”
Ezra nodded. “Well . . . when you get to our age, each new day is a pleasant surprise. Better to be doing something useful with them than to simply be . . . waiting. I should be proud to risk my life in service of my friends. Something I should have done long ago, in fact. When I first had the chance.”
She put a hand on his arm. “That sounds like the start of a long and fascinating story. One you can tell us on the way. Please don’t make me beg you, Ezra.”
“Bash.”
Both Mavie and Spindler stared at him in astonishment. The old assistant smiled again.
“Ezra Bash,” he said. “You never knew my full name, did you? Well, I took care no one should.”
“Bash?” Mavie repeated. “Not . . . not the same—”
“The same, yes. Iophulis was my brother.”
“Iophulis Bash?” Spindler cried. “From Harburg?”
“That’s right. We’ve no time for the whole story, but suffice to say he joined the call-up to go to Damiras while I preferred to stay out of things. The only time I dared get close to any of it was when I installed that statue of him in the library.”
“The guide pillar?” Mavie said. “That was your doing?”
“At his request. He meant it as a means for the Colonists to find his research.”
“You knew about his research?” Spindler said, even louder.
Ezra rubbed his chin. “My, there’s a lot of repeating. Is your hearing up to snuff?”
“Is there any more? Any other places he might have kept it? Besides that room in his house? Or did he send any of it to you?”
“Oh, no. If he had, I would’ve sent it straight back again. I always did my best to stay out of trouble. His talk of Spektors and Blue Flames and strange keys made me nervous. I didn’t want any part of it.” He nodded at Mavie. “Nor did I want to burden you with such things. I knew you had enough difficulties to contend with. I only put that statue there because he begged me, year after year, until I couldn’t take it anymore.” He looked away. His mouth quivered for a moment. “Then the old fool went and got himself killed. But . . . perhaps he had the right idea. To die for something rather than to live for nothing.” He stooped and slipped the leather bag from his shoulder, then held it out to Spindler. “Take it.”
Spindler glanced at Mavie, hesitant. She was too overcome to speak. Too bewildered. But they couldn’t stand there talking for much longer. He accepted the bag with a grateful nod.
“And Varn as well,” Ezra said, lifting his other hand. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to him.”
“Oh, uh . . .”
Before Spindler could protest, the assistant urged the bird onto his shoulder.
“He’ll fly off to feed himself, so you don’t have to worry about that, and he knows better than to relieve himself on your coat. You’ll hardly know he’s there at all. He just likes to be talked to once in a while. He’s quite clever as well. Knows a few words and phrases.”
The bird cocked his head, ruffled its black feathers with his beak, and settled down comfortably. Spindler glanced at him, unsure about the whole business but willing to try it for the old man’s sake. “Uh, all right. H-hello, Varn.”
“Hello!” the bird squawked.
“Oh, good Lord, you’re loud,” Spindler said, bringing a hand to his ear.
Mavie stepped forward and took Ezra’s hands, her eyes welling with tears. “I will miss you, my friend. I should stay behind if I had any sense. Make you reveal all the other secrets you’ve been keeping from me.”
“No more secrets. All that remains is to apologize for not telling you sooner. Who knows how it might have helped things? But now you must go. You can be a great help to your friends, and they will need as much as they can get—especially considering recent events. Though I must say . . . it does my heart good to know they’re together again. As they should be.”
Mavie smiled. “You knew as well?”
“Oh, please. It didn’t take a great deal of imagination. They spent a whole month in that boiler room together. One would always stay and wait for the other. And I could hear their laughter all the way up through the dumbwaiter. Give them my fondest regards. As well as my apologies to the Lady Seherene. I’m afraid I wasn’t able to discover anything about young Mr. Revore’s mother and father, though not for lack of effort.”
“Ink?” Spindler said. “Seherene was trying to find Ink’s parents?”
“Yes. On account of feeling sorry for the poor lad, or so I guess.”
“But he’s an orphan, isn’t he?” Mavie asked.
“The lady didn’t seem to think so. She sent inquiries to every hospital and infirmary in the country to start with, but when that brought no result, she expanded the operation. I received a letter from her a few months ago asking for my help with the search. I’d been meaning to tell you about the whole business, but I’m afraid it quite slipped my mind, what with all the excitement.”
“No one could blame you,” the old woman replied. “And I pray this new excitement doesn’t prove too troublesome. I can’t bear to think of them marching you off to Stalikos.”
He patted her hand. “Then don’t think of it. Now come on. In you go.”
He helped her into the boat. Spindler steadied her by the other arm while trying not to dump Varn off his shoulder. Once she was seated, Spindler turned back to the assistant.
“You should know . . . your efforts weren’t in vain. The finding of your brother’s research changed a lot of things for many people. Myself included. I’m sure it even played a part in convincing the Lady Seherene to see the truth. That’s no small achievement.”
“Well . . . that’s very kind of you to say.”
“You’re sure about staying?”
The old man smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Go on. And you be good, Varn.”
Spindler turned reluctantly, shoved the boat into the water, and jumped aboard before the icy waves could reach his knees. The oars were secured by leather straps under the gunwales. Mavie and Spindler worked quickly to loosen them and set them into their locks.
“Oh!” Ezra said. “I put today’s paper in that bag of yours, Mr. Spindler! Better have a look at it when you can.”
“Will do!”
“And you take good care of yourself, Ezra Bash!” Mavie cried, then repeated the name to herself in renewed astonishment. “Bash!”
The waves sent them floating westward before Spindler had a good grip on the oars. He pulled a few aimless strokes, unsure of their destination but knowing they had to get far away from Mastmarner. The midday sun was like a beacon bearing down on them. Mavie watched the shore until the old assistant turned and disappeared around the curving tower wall. She wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat before speaking again.
“Steer us east towards the mainland, around the library. We should come up on the mouth of the Ceridwen soon enough. We’ll ride it as far south as it will take us.”
“You’ve got a plan already?”
“Of course I do. You don’t have an escape bag without also having an escape plan. No more talking for a while now. I can already see soldiers on the far shore. Just keep your head down and row. And get Varn off your shoulder. Someone might recognize him.”
He held his finger out to the bird, who hopped on without protest and allowed himself to be set beneath the seat. This done, Spindler glanced over his shoulder in a panic. There were three soldiers patrolling the mainland on horseback. They were headed towards the library but their eyes swept both the water to their right and the dense wood to their left.
“Shouldn’t I bear more out to sea?” he asked in a low voice. “They’ll spot us if we keep on like this!”
“Of course they will. Just keep your gob shut and do as I said.”
Mavie shifted in her seat and lifted the lid off a squat basket in the stern. From out of this she pulled a cloak, a large straw hat, and two pieces of a fishing rod which snapped together. She put on the cloak, adjusted it, and donned the hat. The brim was so wide Spindler could hardly see her face.
“I’m not dressed for fishing!” he said in a loud whisper of alarm.
She answered him with a sharp hand signal—of which he well knew the meaning—then laid the fishing rod across her lap. He glanced over his shoulder again. One of the soldiers had dismounted and was looking their way. As soon as he noticed Spindler turn his head, he raised his arm and beckoned.
“Ho there! Come closer ashore!”
He looked back at Mavie and perceived a slight nod by the motion of her straw hat. With a grunt, he threw his weight on the starboard oar and took them closer to the soldiers. Once in range for conversation, he attempted a smile.
“Anything wrong, sir?”
“Just doing an inspection of the area,” the dismounted soldier replied. “Can you ask the lady to remove her hat?”
“What?” Spindler asked, trying to sound offended. “Is that really necessary?”
“The hat, madam. If you please.”
