Mirrorscape Page 8

  Mel wrenched himself free and plunged down, the sound of feet close behind him. He reached the foot of the stairs and turned left, right, left again, as he tried to throw his pursuers off his trail. They mustn’t catch me. They simply mustn’t. Mel had a fleeting vision of the last time he saw Fa Theum but forced the dreadful image from his mind. He ran down a long, dimly lit gallery hung with large paintings. He stole a look over his shoulder. He could hear the drumbeat sound of running feet coming ever closer. The tattoo merged with the pounding of his own blood in his ears. Then he heard more running feet, this time from in front, doubling the rhythm. I’m trapped. He skidded to a halt in front of one of the paintings. Panting, he pressed his back to it. There’s no way out. It’s all over.

  Secrets

  Everything went black as a sack was thrust over Mel’s head. Strong arms grabbed him and heaved him backwards. Abruptly, the sounds of pursuit ceased and were replaced by birds singing. He could hear wind blowing through trees and, somewhere nearby, the gentle tinkling of a stream. He felt the warmth of sunshine and, beneath his feet, grass. This sudden transformation was, in its own way, as frightening as the High-Bailiff and his pack.

  ‘What’re we going to do with him now?’ said a man’s voice.

  ‘Shut up, I’m thinking,’ said another.

  ‘Yech! Have you smelt him? We should have left him out there,’ said the first voice. ‘We don’t need this. He’s not our problem. Let’s slit his throat and dump him back. One more body in the House of Mysteries won’t matter. They wouldn’t even notice.’

  There was silence for a while. All Mel could hear was the sound of his own rapid breathing.

  ‘Listen to him, he’s hyperventilating. He’s going to croak soon anyway. Let’s slit his gizzard and be off.’ It was the first voice again.

  ‘I told you to shut up.’

  The sack was whisked off Mel’s head and he received two sharp slaps to his face in rapid succession.

  ‘Are you all right, lad?’ said the other voice.

  Mel blinked rapidly and gradually came to his senses. Then he wished he was back inside the sack. He screwed his eyes tight shut. I’m in the dormitory. I’m in bed; I’ll wake up in a moment. I’m having a dream – a very, very weird dream.

  But he was not.

  When he opened his eyes again he was still in a forest glade serenely lit with beams of clear, golden light. In the distance were snow-capped mountains, and birds with bright plumage wheeled overhead. Nearby, a unicorn grazed – a real unicorn. It looked up briefly and blinked its languid eyes at him. Mel shook his head. It was all too much. His legs turned to jelly and he collapsed heavily on the ground.

  ‘What’ve you done now? He’s seen where we are. We’ll have to kill him.’

  ‘Are you all right, lad? Speak to me.’

  Mel looked up. It’s not a dream. I’ve gone mad. The man bending over him was green: the colour of grass. His hands and his fingernails were green. His skin and his hair were green, as were his teeth. Even his eyes were a paler shade of the same green, with dark green pupils. This was so bizarre in itself that Mel did not notice his strange clothes or the weird piebald creature clinging to his shoulder.

  ‘He’s in shock,’ said the other man.

  Mel looked at him. He was blue. This isn’t possible. I’m hallucinating.

  ‘Of course he’s in shock. So would you be. What’s your name, lad?’ the green man asked.

  Mel just looked at him, uncomprehending.

  ‘Your name. Who are you?’ He shook Mel again gently.

  ‘M … Mel. Melkin Womper.’

  ‘How long have you been Ambrosius Blenk’s apprentice, Mel?’

  ‘How do you know …?’ He remembered his livery. ‘Just a couple of days. I got a free one.’

  ‘What’s he talking about, “a free one”? He hasn’t been there long enough, he can’t know anything. Now he’s gone and seen us. Let’s do him and dump the body back out there. We need to get out of here,’ said the blue man, drawing his knife.

  ‘No one’s going to do anyone. Not while I’m in charge,’ said the green man. ‘Put that knife away. If Adolfus Spute and the Fifth Mystery are after him, then he’s on our side. Can you stand, Mel?’

  Mel nodded. Unsteadily, he got to his feet.

  ‘Well done. Now we’re going to take you somewhere where it’s safe to release you but I’m going to have to put the sack back on your head. It’s for your own good.’

  Mel briefly fought back panic. The last thing he saw before the sack was placed back over his head was a softly shimmering and undulating wall of mist that rose up, sheer, from the grass to the sky just a few feet from him. Then they began walking, Mel guided by the firm hands of the two coloured men.

  They walked for what seemed like a long time. They climbed hills and clambered down steep inclines, picking their way over fallen branches. Once, the temperature dropped suddenly and they skidded across a broad expanse of ice. Then it became warmer and they were in some inhabited place where he heard music and the sound of many voices that faded as they marched on. Eventually, they halted.

  The green man spoke. ‘Right, Mel. I’m going to let you go now. When I take the sack off you won’t be in the House of Mysteries, you’ll be somewhere else. You won’t be in any danger but you mustn’t linger. You must go straight back to Ambrosius Blenk’s mansion. Do you understand?’

  Mel nodded.

  ‘And you can never talk about this. Not to anyone. Otherwise my mate really will slit your gizzard. OK? Now, close your eyes.’

  Mel was gently thrust forward. He felt a tingling sensation all over and he sensed that the air around him changed again.

  ‘Goodbye, Mel. And remember, not a word.’ The sack was lifted off his head.

  Mel opened his eyes. He was in a strange room. In front of him was an open door with a short flight of steps leading down to a busy street. He turned around and saw a large painting. Before he had a chance to study it he was interrupted.

  ‘I’m sorry, my son, but the House of Spirits is not open to visitors.’

  The House of Spirits? I’m back in Vlam! Mel turned to see a young priest walking towards him. He was smiling and his shining diaglyph sent reflections dancing around the walls.

  ‘I’m sorry, Fa ….’

  ‘Ah, I see you’re one of Ambrosius Blenk’s apprentices. Well, we sometimes allow you to come here and study the Maven’s paintings but you must make an appointment first.’

  ‘Excuse me, Fa. I’m new here. I only arrived in Vlam a couple of days ago. I’m lost. I must get back to my master.’

  The priest escorted him to the door and pointed at where the rooftops sloped down from the three hills to the centre of the city. ‘Ambrosius Blenk’s mansion lies at the very heart of Vlam. The fog’s lifted now and you can see the Great Houses. When they’re equidistant, you’ll be near home. Now take care.’ The Fa waved him goodbye.

  It was long after dark when Mel arrived back outside his master’s mansion. Above him, the clock chimed midnight and the gates to the courtyard were locked. Weary to the point of exhaustion, Mel walked around the block, trying to find someone to let him in through one of the side doors. He felt hopeless as he began a second circuit. Then he heard his name.

  ‘Mel. Up here.’

  He looked up and saw Wren at a second-floor window.

  ‘I’ll come down and let you in.’ A short while later a nearby door opened. Wren was not wearing her pinafore or turban and her long auburn hair hung loose about her shoulders. She looked altogether different, less like a servant and more like she lived in the splendid house.

  ‘Mel, where’ve you been? You look done in. The house has been in turmoil. They were on the point of calling the Watch to go and look for you. But I knew you’d come back.’

  ‘Wren, you won’t believe what happened to me. First I got lost and then I was chased and then – ’

  ‘Slow down.’

  ‘But I have a message for you.’


  ‘For me?’ She laughed nervously.

  ‘From your father.’

  ‘My father. You can’t have met him. He’s – ’

  ‘A prisoner of the Fifth Mystery. Honestly, Wren. I’m not making this up. He has a scar, here, on the bridge of his nose,’ said Mel.

  Tears welled up in Wren’s eyes. ‘Oh, Mel, did you really see him? Where?’

  ‘Near the South-Eastern Winding Shed. He was with some other prisoners and I think they must have been taking him to work there.’ Mel could not tell his friend that her father looked wretched.

  Wren smiled sadly. ‘This means that he hasn’t been sent to the mines. There’s still hope.’

  ‘Why’s your father a prisoner? What’s he done?’

  ‘Done? What do you have to do to fall foul of the Mysteries? Nothing, that’s what! You know the great clock on the front of the mansion? Well, my father made it and the one at the House of Thrones. He’s made clocks for all sorts of important people. He’s the greatest clockmaker in Nem! The Mysteries – all of them – hated him because time didn’t belong to any of them. You can’t touch it and you can’t smell it. You can’t hear it, taste it or see it.’

  ‘There’s no Pleasure attached to it.’

  ‘None. No one could make a profit from time. So they made up some kind of crime for his not having the Pleasure of time. No one ever knew what it was or which Mystery was responsible. They just came and took him away one night, about three months ago.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Wren, I had no idea. I didn’t mean to upset you.’ He touched her arm in a gesture of comfort.

  ‘We used to have a nice house, not far from here, and two servants, and now we have nothing. My mother has to work in a laundry and I have to work here, in the kitchens.’ She fought back the tears and raised her head proudly. ‘So what’s this message my father gave you?’

  ‘He said that he loved you and thought about you all the time. And then he said something else that I don’t understand. He said that you should “look in the night”.’

  ‘Look for what? Which night? Tonight?’

  ‘I don’t know. That’s all he had time to say.’

  The great clock chimed the half hour. ‘Come on, Mel. You need to get back to the dormitory. Stay here, I’ll be back in a moment.’ Wren disappeared down a hallway and returned holding a candle and a small key. ‘Here’s something you ‘prentices don’t know about. Even I’m not supposed to know. I borrowed a key.’ Wren winked. She led Mel to some carved panelling on the wall and fitted the key to a tiny keyhole. The oak panel swung open and Wren stepped inside. ‘Come on.’

  Mel followed her. ‘A secret passage!’

  ‘Shhh!’ Wren closed the panel behind them and lit the candle. Her green eyes twinkled. ‘This is a service passage. The mansion is riddled with them. Most of the rooms can be accessed from the passages. It allows the senior servants to come and go without having to clog up the normal corridors. Come on, this way.’

  Mel followed Wren along the passage. They climbed uneven stairs, cobwebs sometimes brushing their faces. As they proceeded, Wren whispered to Mel what lay beyond the various doors they passed.

  ‘That leads to the servants’ hall and that one over there to the scullery. Here’s the door to the linen store.’

  ‘You must have a good memory. To remember all the doors like that.’

  ‘No, not at all. The rooms are written on the doors. Look.’ She held up the candle. ‘What’s that say?’

  Mel was silent.

  Wren held the candle closer. ‘There, surely you can see it now.’ Then the truth dawned on her. ‘You can’t read, can you?’

  Mel hung his head. ‘Fa Theum, the village priest, wanted to teach me but he didn’t have any books in Nemish.’

  ‘I’ve got some books. I can teach you.’

  ‘Really? You’ll really teach me to read? I can write a bit.’

  ‘Then I’ll teach you to write more. I’d like that, to have something better to do after work than to gossip with Cook and the others. It would be fun.’

  Mel smiled for the first time that day. ‘Look, Wren, thanks for everything. If you hadn’t waited up for me I’d still be wandering round outside. You’re the only friend I’ve got in here.’

  ‘What about Ludo?’

  ‘Ludo … He’s ….’

  ‘Selfish?’

  Mel nodded.

  ‘He’s not really; he’sjust a bit thoughtless sometimes. It’s his upbringing. Ludolf Cleef comes from a very well-to-do family. His father’s Lord Cleef. They used to be very rich – still are by anyone else’s standards. But they love their Pleasures a tad too much. He’s the youngest son and his parents dote on him. They bought his apprenticeship for him, probably with money they don’t have. They’re counting on him being a successful artist one day. He was bullied a lot when he first arrived. His life never prepared him for an apprenticeship under Groot.’

  ‘I don’t think anyone could be prepared for that,’ said Mel.

  They continued onwards and upwards. At length, at the top of a steep flight of especially rickety stairs, they reached the dormitory.

  Wren opened the door a crack. ‘All’s clear. Just get straight into bed.’ She held the panel open for him and Mel slipped through. Wren closed it after him and made her way back through the passages in the direction of the servants’ quarters.

  In the silence after she had passed, a flame flared, illuminating the green face of a man. He made his way down a different passage. When he came to the door he sought, he raised his candle to read the inscription: Dirk Tot’s study. He knocked softly and entered.

  More Secrets

  ‘Six months’ loss of privileges and stipend. You’re ever so lucky, Mel,’ said Ludo.

  ‘Lucky? What does unlucky earn you around here?’

  ‘No, really you are. Apprentices have been thrown out for much less. It can only be because you’re so talented. And the master likes you. I was here for six months before he even spoke to me. That’s going to make Groot angry. He’s bound to try and get back at you somehow.’

  Ludo was right. The following morning, Mel was given a final warning by Dirk Tot. He was then put straight back to work scrubbing the studio floor. Groot, Bunt and Jurgis would periodically pass by, splashing fresh paint on parts he had already cleaned or kicking over his bucket. At lunch his food was sabotaged with a dead mouse and he left the refectory hungry. When he went to use the privy he found his precious drawings scattered around. This time they were smeared with something worse than gravy.

  Mel ran straight to the dormitory, opened his secret cache and withdrew his bodkin. He crossed to Groot’s sleeping place. He stood there, looking at the head apprentice’s drawings pinned up around his bed. His fingers tightened on the dagger.

  The door opened and Ludo walked up the empty dormitory towards him. ‘I thought I’d find you here. I saw what they’d done. Are you going to shred his drawings? I would.’

  Mel hesitated. He tucked the bodkin into his doublet. ‘No. It would just drag me down to his level.’

  Ludo was quiet for a moment and then said, ‘Look, Mel, things will be different from now on. You’ll see. You covered up for me when you got caught in the kitchen and you’re the only one here, apart from Wren, who treats me like a human being. You’re my best friend. I’ll make it up to you.’ He offered Mel his hand.

  ‘All right,’ agreed Mel, touched by his friend’s concern as they shook hands.

  ‘But there must be some way you could strike back at Groot. You could tell Dirk Tot what happened. He hates bullying.’

  ‘No, I can’t do that.’

  ‘Why ever not?’

  ‘There’s something you don’t know about Dirk Tot. He’s – ’

  The door opened again and Wren entered. ‘Mel, I heard what happened in the refectory earlier. Here, I brought you some cheese. You must be starving.’

  ‘That’s not the worst of it. They … they destroyed his drawings,
’ said Ludo.

  ‘Just wait till I’m serving again in the refectory. I’ll give them a taste of their own medicine.’

  ‘No, Wren, they’re not worth it. Thanks for the cheese.’ Mel gratefully took the food. ‘Look, there’re things I’ve got to tell you both. Important things. I wish there was somewhere private we could talk.’

  ‘Maybe there is,’ said Wren. ‘Come with me.’

  They made their way to the grand entrance hall. In one of the galleries that surrounded it, halfway up, she approached a panel.

  Wren looked about to make sure they were not being observed and then ran her hand around some moulding. There was a click and a small door, only half their height, sprung open. ‘Mind your heads and follow me.’

  ‘We’re inside the great clock,’ said Mel as he gazed around in astonishment.

  The space glowed with the light penetrating the translucent glass of the huge clock face. Its hands and back-to-front numerals were clearly silhouetted against the daylight. All around them moved gears and pulleys, and a large, brass pendulum swung back and forth. Coiled springs contracted and expanded. Escapements and well-oiled ratchets rocked to and fro, and large counterweights hung suspended. The whole machine ticked and tocked with a loud but friendly voice. Racks of bells, in strict order of size, waited to announce the hours.

  ‘How did you know how to get in?’ asked Ludo, touching the rows of brightly painted automated figures that paraded across the clock face each time the hour struck.

  ‘My father made this clock. And I designed and painted all the figures.’ Wren ran her hand lovingly over the machinery.

  ‘You?’ said Ludo.

  ‘I wasn’t always a kitchen girl. I used to help my father in his workshop.’

  Up close, Mel recognised several of the faces on the figures. A scrawny dragon bore the unmistakeable features of Adolfus Spute and a tiny, horned devil that of Mumchance. ‘Their faces. They look like – ’